


The Boy with the Thorn in His Side

by 30PacketsofKetchup



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Abuse, Banter, Bickering, Greatgrannycide, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Past Child Abuse, Pining, Scriddler, Slow Burn, Teenage AU, eddie doesn't either but he's good at faking it, jonathan doesn't know how to human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-02 11:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13317054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30PacketsofKetchup/pseuds/30PacketsofKetchup
Summary: It's Jonathan Crane's last summer before he starts college, and between working three jobs, his school work, and conducting his own private research, he hasn't got the time for much else. He definitely doesn't have the time -or the interest- to be making friends. But an obnoxious, freckle-faced new comer named Eddie Nashton seems absolutely intent on doing so.How can Jonathan ever expect to master fear itself if he can't even handle a boyhood crush?





	1. The Stranger

Jonathan didn’t know what was worse, the summer heat or the people who insisted on complaining to him about it. Nearly every single one of his customers that day had said something. “Hot one today, eh?” “Hotter’n hell out there today!” “Gonna be even worse tomorrow, can you believe that?” He would “Mhmm” or “Yup” with disinterest every time, eyes never leaving the book he had resting on top of his knees until they’d brought their things up to the counter to check out. He would ring them up and give them their change with the most insincere of ‘Have a nice day’s and then settle back into his reading until the next interruption arrived.

But it was better than the other kind of customers that came in, the ones who recognized him. “That’s Marion Keeny’s grandson,” they would whisper loudly. “Did ya hear what happened to her?” “Just awful. Just dreadful.” When they came to the counter to check out, they would stare at him, or they would avoid eye contact altogether, and their ‘thank you’s and their ‘nice day’s were laced with contempt. 

Despite the customers, the general store was Jonathan’s favorite of his jobs. It was the only one he was allowed to sit down at. And the old widower who owned the place didn’t seem to mind Jonathan reading on the clock, so long as he did all the things that were asked of him. Sure, maybe Jonathan had caught him rolling his eyes once or twice, but he never scolded him for it. Jonathan had a feeling the old man had hired him out of pity, knowing that with his great grandmother passed on and the house up for foreclosure, he was in desperate need of money. He wasn’t kind to him, per se, but he wasn’t needlessly cruel like most of the people Jonathan knew. He didn’t yell at him, and not being reprimanded was the best scenario Jonathan could hope for. His other bosses were not as forgiving.

The widower was barely ever around, anyway. He was approaching ninety and spent most of his time inside his home, which was on the same lot as the general store. Jonathan preferred it when the old man stayed in the house, because it meant he got to be alone. He enjoyed the quiet. Nothing but the whir of the standing fan and the gentle hum of the freezers. 

The bell above the door jingled. Tennis shoes softly slapped across the hardwood floor. Jonathan didn’t look up until the footsteps stopped right in front of the counter. “Yes?” he sighed, glancing from his book to the intrusion.

Standing before him was a young man he’d never seen before, similar in age to himself. Red-headed, freckle-faced. His faded T-shirt was soaked through with sweat. “Yes?” the boy repeated, quirking one thin red eyebrow. “Shouldn’t it be 'How can I help you?'” 

Jonathan hated him already. “How can I help you?” he asked, glaring at the redhead over the rims of his glasses. 

“How about a little bit of that Southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about?” The boy was grinning now, clearly amused by himself. His accent was out of place. Mid-western, maybe?

“Fresh out of that, I’m afraid,” Jon said with a roll of his eyes. That joke had never been funny and it never would be. “What else do you want?”

The young man’s demeanor was suddenly serious, as he recalled his reason for being there. “Do you carry the New York Times? I’ve been looking for it everywhere and no one seems to have it. I need it for the crossword puzzle. It’s my favorite, and the paper that gets delivered to my mother’s house doesn’t even have a crossword at all.” He spoke quickly, urgently. This seemed to qualify as an emergency in his head.

Jonathan pointed his thumb towards the uneven stack of newspapers sitting beside the register. Identical copies of the local gazette. “This is the only paper we sell.” 

“Oh.” The stranger’s shoulders lowered in disappointment. He looked at the newspapers, scrunching up his mouth. “This is the only paper anyone sells in this town. Aren’t any of you hicks interested in the world outside of this corn-fed hellhole?”

Jonathan scowled. “You watch your mouth.” He agreed with the boy, for the most part. Most people in this town were ignorant and quite happy to be so. Jonathan despised them for it. And he objected to being lumped in with them, and to being called a hick by this outsider who knew absolutely nothing. 

“I’m sorry,” said the stranger, almost instantly. His eyes were on the floor, watching his own tennis shoed feet kicking softly at each other. He was awfully twitchy. After a moment, he said, “Well, I guess I’ll just get some pop. And a pack of menthols.”

“You got ID?”

“Yeah, hold on a second.” He fumbled in the pocket of his shorts for a leather wallet. His calves were well-toned and covered in thick ginger hair. “Here,” he said, presenting an Indiana driver’s license, blocking Jonathan’s view of his legs. 

Jonathan snatched the plastic card out of his hand, inspecting it. “This says you’re seventeen.” 

“I am, technically. Yeah. But I’ll be eighteen in August.”

“Well it’s June.” 

The boy -Edward Nashton his ID said- huffed loudly. “Come on. I haven’t had a smoke all day.”

“No. I’m not losing my job for a kid I don’t even know.” Jonathan tossed the ID back at him, and he just barely caught it between his hands. 

Edward changed tactics, leaning over the counter with a playful smirk on his face. “I’ll be your best frieeend.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Jonathan scoffed. “I don’t have friends.” It… sounded a lot less pathetic before he said it out loud… 

Edward blinked at him, smirk disappearing. “I’ll just buy the pop, then,” he conceded, gesturing to the bottle of Coca-Cola which had created a puddle of condensation on the counter top during their exchange. 

“Eighty cents,” Jonathan said. Edward handed him a dollar bill. Finally he was leaving, and Jonathan could have his quiet again. 

“What are you reading?” Edward asked, pocketing his change and craning his neck to look down at the book in Jon’s lap. 

Jonathan clenched his teeth. This was the part where the taunting always started. He could feel Edward’s eyes on him, awaiting his answer. “The Stranger,” he said, quietly. 

“Camus?” Edward asked, interest clearly piqued. 

Jonathan was taken aback for a second. “You know him?” 

“Well sure,” Edward said. He was using the base of a cigarette lighter (not his own, no, he was using one from the display on the counter top) to uncap his Coke bottle. “Have you read his essays?” 

Jonathan nodded, wordless. He was uncomfortable. No one had ever asked him what he was reading and meant it. No one ever recognized what he was reading before. Though he’d probably read thousands of them, he didn’t know how to talk about books; he lacked the eloquence to discuss his thoughts in any meaningful way. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

How dare this boy come in here and make him feel stupid like this. 

Edward chuckled. “You better hide that, lest the townspeople find out and burn you as a heretic.” 

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” Jonathan said. “Folks ‘round here don’t take kindly to intelligence.” Or jokes about heresy…

Something in Edward’s eyes glittered at the backhanded compliment, and he leaned against the counter with his palm, smiling warmly at Jonathan. It was unsettling. Jonathan was about to tell him to fuck off when suddenly Edward glanced at his watch and sprang upright. “Oh, shoot, I’ve gotta go.” 

He gulped down the rest of his Coke, leaving the empty glass bottle on the counter behind him. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “It sure is hot today, huh?”

Jonathan would have strangled him if he hadn’t left the store right then. 

 

\---

 

Jonathan’s shift at the general store was over not long after that, and he had about half an hour before his shift at the diner, where he worked as a dish washer, started. He ate his lunch in his truck on the way there- a cup of lukewarm coffee and a handful of potato chips. He was working three jobs, currently, and he’d have taken on a fourth if he came across one. This was his last summer before going off to college, and if he wanted to survive at all in Atlanta he was going to need money. That and he needed to buy more books. 

He smoked a cigarette, flicking his ashes onto the floor of the cab, no concern for the interior of the truck. It wasn’t even his, technically. He closed his eyes, and savored that last moment of quiet before stepping out of the truck and crossing the lot to enter the diner. 

The dinner rush was just starting and it was already too loud inside, too crowded, the smell of deep fryer oil and something burning on the grill loading the air. Jonathan pushed through the crowd to the kitchen. 

“Crane! You’re late!” his boss, Carol, yelled from her place at the grill. 

He bent his long arm towards the clock on the wall. “I’m ten minutes early,” he said.

“You should be here fifteen minutes early,” she told him. “Get your skinny scarecrow ass over to the sink. I need plates!”

Jaw tight, he tied on an apron and began to work on the massive pile of dishes in the stainless steel sink. A hand placed more dishes on top, and he had the oddly satisfying thought of cutting it clean off with the meat cleaver he was rinsing. 

“Excuse me,” a confident male voice asked. ”Don’t I know you from somewhere?” 

Jonathan turned his head sharply to look at the source of the query. And when he saw that freckled face he nearly dropped the cleaver back into the sink. It was him.

Edward was smiling. He had an apron around his waist, and a plastic tag pinned to the breast of his black polo shirt. ‘Eddie’ it said in green permanent marker. The handwriting was very neat, a little bit feminine even. 

Eddie followed Jonathan’s line of vision to his name tag and his white, toothy smile only grew. “You know mine. What’s yours?”

“Jonathan,” he answered, taking a step back to put more distance between himself and the irritating (and seemingly ever-present) young man. “Since when do you work here?”

“It’s my first day,” Eddie said. “I’m new in town. Well, I don’t live here, really. Not permanently, as far as I’m aware. I’m staying with my mom for the summer. Ellen Nash- uh, Jameson.”

Jonathan nodded. “The sheriff’s wife. Didn’t know she had a kid.”

Eddie frowned. “Yeah, well… The sheriff is making me work through the summer so I can pay for room and board. He’s a real pain in my di-“

“Busboy!” Carol shouted from the grill, pointing at him with her spatula. “Tables!”

“Duty calls,” Eddie said, spinning on his heel dramatically. “Nice to meet you, Jonathan,” he added, more softly, before disappearing into the front of the diner. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes, scrubbing hard at a plate. What a foolish, prideful, irritating person. He couldn’t remember ever meeting someone quite like him. Was everyone outside of Arlen so forward? So brash? Jonathan doubted it, but then again he’d never left the miserable little town himself. 

Edward Nashton was going to be an immense pain in his ass, he could just tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concept has been done before, but I like it so *shrug* 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. A Request

Jonathan got home a little after 10 pm. He parked his truck on the dirt driveway and walked across the lawn, past the dilapidated chapel that sat on the edge of the property, the rows of graves beside it barely visible in the dark of the night. He didn’t think about the old woman that was buried there. Didn’t think about the funeral. About standing in the blazing sun with his great grandmother’s acquaintances weeping around him. When the pastor had given his sermon, he didn’t take his eyes off of Jonathan once. 

The old manor was too big for just one person, yet it had always felt impossibly small when it was occupied by two. There had never seemed to be enough space between Granny and himself. Oftentimes he felt she could see right into his mind; see all the evil temptations and sinful thoughts that he harbored. Illogical, sure, no one could read minds. But sometimes he was certain she had. 

Jonathan walked through the main foyer, right past the thin patch of carpet where he had been instructed to remove and store his shoes every day of his life until a few a months ago. Spitefully, he ignored it and made his way through the house still wearing his boots. With his great grandmother dead, Jonathan had very quickly let the manor fall into a state of disarray. No one was around to tell him to clean, and so he hadn’t. The dining room table was covered in books and school papers, a few dirty plates and empty coffee mugs. In eighteen years he had never been allowed to bring his own belongings (not that he had many) out of his bedroom. But he had been experimenting these last few months; doing all the things he’d never been allowed before. Each time that he broke one of his Granny’s rules, all the fluid in his stomach would go cold and he would feel his heart begin to hammer in his chest. It was fear. He was conditioned after a lifetime of abuse to stay in line and to obey, even without a gnarled hand around to threaten him. But the ancient bitch was dead, in the ground, being chewed clean through by bugs and worms. She couldn’t hurt him now. In fact, she hadn’t been able to hurt him for a long time, sick as she was and strong as Jonathan had grown. But this conditioning had been more powerful than logic; her keen glare had made him cower even when he was nearly twice her height. 

He sat in one of the high backed chairs around the table, then untied and kicked off his boots, letting them fall several feet apart from each other on the floor. Again, the chill shudder of fear ran through his body, down his arms to his shaking fingers. Closing his eyes, he studied himself. Paid close attention to the shiver of his breath as it left his mouth, the tremor in his knees, the way his heart seemed intent on beating its way right out of his ribcage. And he took notes, scribbled down each of these sensations, each of his thoughts. Fear was nothing but a chemical reaction, a bodily response to perceived danger. Made one alert, readied the legs to run and fists to fight. He was in no danger now, but it wasn’t until he had written it down that he really believed it. Satisfied, he dropped his pen onto the table and sat back in his chair. The cold ripple in his belly was lessening now. His breath and his heart were slowing. 

He was going to overcome this.

No, not just overcome it. He was going to become its master.

 

\--

 

Edward Nashton was the worst person Jonathan had ever met. Not because he was cruel or selfish or anything like that. But because he was so eager to be liked, so desperate for attention from anyone, from everyone. It was disgusting to witness, worse still to be on the receiving end of. Eddie was always talking at him. Asking him personal questions, either ignorant or apathetic to the fact that such inquiries were impolite and unwelcome. Jonathan would give the shortest answer possible, if he replied at all. But he quickly learned that even silence did not deter the boy. As the weeks went on, his exasperation with Eddie grew and grew.

And he was a terrible flirt, always following the waitresses around and trying to impress them with his intelligence. Spouting off barely-relevant trivia, bragging about winning the science fair at his school back home, asking asinine riddles. Jonathan wanted to tell him that it was pointless; girls here were just like everybody else in this town. No interest in book smarts. All these girls cared about was farming and Jesus. 

But then it worked. Eddie had earned himself a date with a pretty waitress named Jessica.

Jonathan found himself becoming angry. He had gone to school with Jessica. He could clearly remember her giggling with her friends and pointing at him, teasing him for his love of books and calling him names. She had turned her gaze away when the stronger boys had beaten Jonathan senseless. Now here she was, agreeing to dinner with a guy all because he had spouted off some useless “fun facts” and showed her a puzzle box. Why did she not laugh at Edward the way she had laughed at Jonathan?

Of course, he knew exactly why. Eddie had something Jonathan did not. Something he would never have. Eddie was handsome. He had a face like an old advertising model, high cheek bones and squared jaw, fiery red hair parted perfectly to one side. His lips were full, and they were pink because he never stopped chewing on them. His nose was rounded and slightly too large for his face, but it suited him somehow. Even his eyebrows were perfect, and Jonathan didn’t even know that men could have nice eyebrows. 

And his eyes. The warmest hazel. They sparkled when he laughed.

Jonathan set the stack of clean dishes on the counter with a little too much force, vexed now with himself. What did he care if Eddie was handsome? He was a fool! Yes he had intelligence but he was far too easily distracted to ever achieve great things. Not like Jonathan was going to do, once he made it to Atlanta and earned his degrees. He was going to double major. Psychology, definitely, and? He wasn’t sure just yet. But whatever he decided, he was going to become so much more than pathetic little Edward could ever hope to be. 

Jonathan would become somebody important. Someone strong. Not in spite of his ugliness, but because of it. The teasing he had endured, the abuse at the hands of his grandmother, it had all been preparation for the journey ahead of him. That much he knew. At eighteen he was already teaching himself how to commandeer fear itself at his dining room table. Meanwhile Edward was doing what? Looking adorable and solving crossword puzzles? Ha.

 

\--

 

“Eh hem.”

Jonathan was sitting in the bed of his truck enjoying his cigarette break, back leaning against the rear window, long legs straight out in front of him. It was a clear night; the sky was freckled with white stars. A sliver of a moon was visible above the tree line.

“Eh HEM.”

Maybe if he played dead, the obnoxious redhead would leave.

“JONATHAN CRANE!” Eddie said loudly. “Answer me.”

Jonathan sighed heavily, releasing a cloud of smoke. He looked over at the boy, hanging over the side of Jonathan’s truck like some kind of orange monkey. “What?” he asked sharply.

“Can I bum a smoke?”

“No.”

Eddie did not like that answer at all. He climbed all the way over and into the truck bed, sitting with crisscross legs at Jonathan’s feet. “C’mon.” His bright white grin in the dim light of the parking lot was the cheesiest thing Jonathan had ever seen.

“I have half a mind to kick you right now,” he told him. 

“Do you have another half?” Eddie asked, mischief flashing in his eyes. 

Jonathan scowled. “I mean it. I’ll kick ya right in the face.”

Eddie looked at him for a moment, his knees bouncing even though they were folded underneath each other. What was it that made him so nervous all the time? Jonathan couldn’t help but wonder. “Please,” he said finally. “Gimme a cigarette.”

Jonathan really, really wanted to kick him. But instead, he pulled a cigarette from his pack and tossed it right at Eddie’s stupid face. It bounced off the end of his nose and into his lap.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, picking it up and feeling in his pocket for a lighter.

Jonathan shrugged. 

They sat together in the truck bed for about ten more minutes, smoking. Eddie took so long with his cigarette that Jonathan ended up lighting a second one for himself. He closed his eyes, only half listening to whatever Eddie was babbling on about. Sinking against the cool metal behind him, he realized that he could easily fall asleep right here, right now, if he were allowed. What a peculiar thing. Sleep did not come easy to Jonathan, especially not anywhere outside his own bed. 

“Break time’s over, boys!” came a shout from across the lot, snapping Jonathan to attention. Carol was standing in the door looking angry as ever. She smacked her palms together loudly. “Move it, move it, we’ve got tables.”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Eddie chewed his bottom lip briefly before saying, “I have to ask you for one more thing.”

Jonathan almost groaned aloud in exasperation. “What now?”

“Can you give me a ride home tonight? The Sheriff usually picks me up after work, but he has to do an overnight shift.” His teeth were back at it, pressing mercilessly into his lip. It looked like it hurt.

“Fine.” Jonathan wasn’t sure why he said it. He didn’t owe Eddie anything. He certainly wasn’t his friend. “But just this once. I don’t want you thinking you can just hitch rides with me any old time.”

“Just this once, got it.”

“What part of move it don’t you kids understand?” Carol asked, as they filed past her to wash their hands and tie their aprons back on. “I swear, parents these days just don’t beat their young ones enough anymore.”

There was a distinct, momentary stiffening of Eddie’s shoulders at that comment, but only Jonathan seemed to notice. “I’ll be sure to inform my parents,” he said. He was smiling, though this time it had not reached his eyes. 

A sudden curiosity rose inside of Jonathan then. Clearly there was more to this boy than he’d suspected. He simply had to find out more. 

 

\--

 

What remained of their shift was fairly uneventful. Jonathan kept expecting Eddie to talk to him, to dawdle by the sink like he so often did and ask Jonathan intrusive questions he’d never answer and tell him some (purportedly hilarious) story about one of the customers that was seated out front. But whenever he came back with dirty dishes, he was quiet. Jonathan stared at him, willing him to at least meet his eyes. He didn’t, not once for the entire four hours. What had changed? 

By the time he made it outside, Eddie was already waiting at the truck. Jonathan unlocked it, and they got inside. He put the key in the ignition, but didn’t turn it, looking sidelong at the redhead instead.

Eddie fiddled with his lighter, not looking up. His front teeth were attacking his poor, swollen lip yet again. 

Sensing that this mysterious standoff would go nowhere any time soon, Jonathan turned on the truck. The engine coughed for a moment, then began to rumble as it should. 

“Carol is a real asshole, huh?” Eddie finally spoke. His eyes were fixed on the lighter, passing it back and forth from one of his hands to the other. His fingers had bandages on them, Jon noticed, and more questions ran through his mind.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Jonathan answered, shrugging. “She’s not much different from everyone else around here.”

“A town full of fucking assholes,” Eddie said. He laughed darkly.

Jonathan wasn’t sure what to say. He started to drive, and it took him a few minutes before he realized that he didn’t know where Eddie lived. “Umm, where’s your house?” he asked.

“My mom’s house,” Eddie answered, “is that way.” He pointed at a side street. Jonathan turned the truck down it. 

“Not you, though,” Eddie said after a bit.

“What?” Jonathan asked, confused.

Eddie looked at him, finally. His expression was soft. “You’re not an asshole.”

“I beg to differ. I am the biggest asshole of them all.” Jonathan made another turn as Eddie pointed the directions wordlessly. “You just don’t know me yet.”

“I’d like to,” Eddie said, but it sounded like maybe he was talking to himself. He directed Jonathan down a dirt road, and they stopped outside of a small farmhouse. 

Jonathan was quiet as Eddie let himself out of the truck and hopped down. He closed the door behind him, but rather than heading to the house he leaned his chin on the open window and gazed over at Jonathan. His eyes were searching Jonathan’s face, and so he kept completely still, unsure of what Eddie was looking for. It seemed, however, that whatever it had been was nowhere to be found, because Eddie turned away with an audible sigh. 

“Good night, Jonathan,” he said, sounding dejected. “Thanks for the ride.”

Jonathan gaped after him, and an unfamiliar feeling gripped the inside of his chest just at that moment. An emotion he’d never experienced in his eighteen years. It was an ache. For what, he didn’t know.

“You’re welcome,” he answered solemnly. “G’night, Eddie.”

He sat there, watching Eddie as he walked up to the front porch and entered the house. There was a red haired woman in a bathrobe at the door to meet him. His mother. Eddie walked right past her, but her eyes were set on Jonathan. She stared at him for a moment, and then slammed the door closed. Jonathan drove off right then, perhaps faster than he should have, a second horrible emotion joining the one that already had begun to make a home of his ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such sad boys :/ 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


	3. Corvidophobia

“Those bags are heavy, do you need some help?” the widower asked. 

“Oh, no, I’ve got it,” Jonathan said, straining to lift the large sack of chicken feed onto the tailgate of the truck. The last thing he needed was the ninety year old man dropping dead at his feet. Then the rumors would really gain traction. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” The old man nodded. “I didn’t know you had chickens.” 

Jonathan lied, “Yeah, it’s been so quiet since Granny died. I figured it would be nice to have some company on the property.”

“Let me know when the hens start laying,” the old man said. “I’ll take any extra eggs off your hands.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely.”

 

\--

 

Jonathan dragged the heavy burlap sack across the yard, pausing briefly to wipe the sweat from his neck. The sun was high in the sky, not a cloud in sight. He wished it would hurry up and rain already. 

With an exhausted huff, he let the sack flop to the ground at the chapel door. He fished in his pocket for his key ring and selected the largest key. It was ancient looking, ornate, and the sight of it made him feel slightly sick. He swallowed hard, unlocked the heavy padlock, the rusty chains falling down near his feet, and he dragged the bag of chicken feed inside. 

The first thing of note once he got inside was the smell. Years of filth had accumulated on every surface. Bird shit and animal bones and dark feathers littered the floor and the battered pews. Jonathan pulled his shirt up over his nose, but it didn’t do much to stop the reek of death and feces from making him gag. On the far side of the chapel, above the pulpit, hundreds of black eyes were watching from the shadows. Jonathan felt his knees begin to shake. It took every ounce of his will not to turn and run. 

“It’s me,” he announced, pulling the neck of his shirt back down, realizing it was probably best to let them see his face. He struggled to steady his voice. “It’s just me. I- I brought you more food.”

Mindful not to turn his back on them, Jonathan pulled a pocket knife from his back pocket and cut open the top of the burlap sack. He let all of the feed spill onto the floor.

They were stirring. Wings flapped. Clawed feet tapped along the wooden beams. Jonathan tried not to breathe with his nose. Tried to breathe as little as possible.

One of the crows approached, gliding down on wide wings and then hopping the rest of the way. Jonathan recognized it; it had a piece of its beak missing, and it was the bravest of the group. Its intelligent eyes regarded him, and then cautiously it came closer. He jumped a little, as it approached. It jumped back as well. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “It’s… it’s ok.”

The bird bent down, perceptive ebony eyes never leaving Jonathan’s, took some of the chicken feed into its beak, and then hurriedly hopped off to one of the pews to eat. The rest of the birds took this as a cue to follow suit. Jonathan felt the frigid terror in his veins as the crows surrounded him. No, no, please don’t, his own voice echoed in his head. A memory. Dozens of memories. Hundreds, maybe. He hadn’t counted. He refused to move, refused to make a sound. He held his ground as the birds descended. 

The crows were all around, on all sides of him. And they didn’t hurt him. They simply circled around the pile of feed and filled their beaks greedily. They were always so hungry. Jonathan felt himself shiver, despite the heat. Their cold black stares chilled his blood, probably always would, but he was learning not to act on his fear. They were beginning to trust him.

He wasn’t sure why he had never realized it before, but the birds had never truly been malicious. Sure they had hurt him badly, had permanently marred his flesh, and had nearly killed him once or twice. But after his great grandmother died, Jonathan came to understand for the first time that the crows had been treated just as badly as he had. They were held captive in this chapel, had been there as long as Jonathan could remember, and maybe had been there for years before he was born. They were kept starving and without sunlight, just like Jonathan. When she tossed him in the chapel and locked the padlock behind her, and the crows swarmed upon him, they were only acting out of self-preservation. 

Jonathan could relate to that. 

When Granny first passed, he had made up his mind to let the wretched creatures die in there. He owed no kindness to the birds that had tormented him since childhood. He left them alone for a week. But guilt began to gnaw at him. Not for his grandmother, no- she deserved ten times the comeuppance she had received. Unlike Marion Keeny, though, the crows were not monsters. They were only animals, reacting as animals should. 

\--

That evening, Eddie approached Jonathan once again during his smoke break. He climbed into the truck bed, sitting like before with his legs crisscrossed over each other, and smiled at him. Whatever had happened between them the night before (and Jonathan still had absolutely no clue what that had been) it obviously had not deterred Eddie from continuing to pester him.

“Can I get a smoke?” he asked, bandaged fingertips rapping on the truck bed liner. 

Jonathan tossed him a cigarette. This one Eddie caught in his hands and not with his face. 

“Aaand a light? I left mine in my other pants.”

“You continue to test my patience, Eddie Nashton,” Jonathan said dryly. He handed him his lighter. “Don’t steal that.”

Something flashed behind Eddie’s eyes, but it passed just as quickly as it came. He lit his cigarette and pulled a long drag from it. “So,” he said slowly. “I know you said you would only do it one time, but… I need a ride home again tonight.”

“Oh no,” Jonathan said, shaking his head. “I knew this was gonna happen. I ain’t your personal chauffeur.”

“Am not,” Eddie said automatically.

“What?”

“It’s ‘I am not.’ Not ‘I ain’t.’” 

“Just for that, I ain’t driving you home.” Jonathan put as much emphasis on ‘ain’t’ as he could. He stood, brushing dirt from the legs of his jeans. He tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and began to climb down from the truck bed. 

Eddie’s pink mouth was agape. “You were actually gonna do it?” he asked, scrambling to his feet as well.

“I was, but you went and fucked that up, didn’tcha?” Jonathan felt himself smile. This boy was so easy to wind up now that he’d figured out how. He chuckled a little to himself, walking back to the diner, as he could feel Eddie’s stare on the back of his head the whole way. 

 

\--

 

At quitting time he found Eddie sitting on the concrete stoop, smoking, with his chin in his hands. When he looked up, Jonathan could see that his bottom lip was bright red. The poor, neurotic boy, he’d chewed himself bloody. Jonathan almost felt sorry for screwing with him.

“Come on,” Jonathan said, gesturing for Eddie to follow. “I was only kidding before.”

“Oh,” Eddie said, spirits rising visibly. “I can’t really tell with you.”

Jonathan smiled for the second time that evening. “That’s what makes it so fun.” 

They got in the truck and Jonathan’s smile faded as he felt that unknown emotion twitching beneath his sternum again. The unnamed ache. 

He had no idea what he ached for. Companionship? Understanding? Kindness? It was so new, and he had been so alone all his life. He had never had the leisure to want things before. And he wanted Eddie’s presence, now, in some way he could not comprehend. Was this what friendship was? Did it always hurt so much? 

Eddie was fidgeting again, this time with the seatbelt at his waist. “Hey, uh,” he said suddenly, an odd high-pitchedness to his voice. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

“I thought I was taking you home?”

“Yeah, but. My curfew is technically eleven, so… We have a little time, if you want to hang out.” Eddie held his tongue between his teeth, eager for an answer.

Oh. That was unexpected. Jonathan was perturbed. Clueless as to what he should say. So he said nothing.

“Or you can just take me home,” Eddie said quietly. Despondent, he shrunk in his seat.

Well that wouldn’t do.

“No, no,” Jonathan said carefully.” It’s just, I’ve never… hung out… before.” God, he sounded so stupid. For as long as Jonathan could recall he had always been the smartest person in every room he’d been in, but somehow Eddie continually and repeatedly made him feel like a god damn fool.

Eddie was smiling finally. “I’ll be happy to teach you how.” His words very easily could have been condescending, but there was nothing but good-natured enthusiasm behind them. 

“Oh, but everything is closed this time of night,” Jonathan said, surprising himself with the disappointed quality to his tone. “There’s nowhere we can really go.”

“You live alone, right? Want to go to your house?” Eddie suggested. 

The ache in Jonathan’s chest expanded, like a balloon inflating in too tight a space. He wasn’t sure why. “Yeah,” he said. “If you really want to. Nothin’ fun to do over there, though.” 

Eddie shrugged. “That’s ok. We can just talk. Have you finished reading The Stranger yet?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan had finished it days ago. 

“We’ll talk about that, then.” Eddie’s voice held confidence, but his nervous fingers were tapping rhythmically along the sides of his thighs. Jonathan thought, cursorily, about grabbing Eddie’s hands in his own to cease their incessant movement. But no, he thought, that would be impolite and… inappropriate. 

As Jonathan drove up the road towards the manor, his heart began to beat faster than before. His mind was racing. The leather steering wheel was growing slick with sweat from his palms. He felt a chill deep in his belly. 

Fear.

He had no idea what he was afraid of. They were going to sit and talk about Camus, probably have a cigarette or two, and then he was going to drive Eddie home. There was nothing about that situation that should invoke fear in him. 

Sociophobia, his mind whispered.

That was ridiculous. 

Was he really so afraid of having a friend? 

Jonathan brought the truck to a stop on the dirt driveway. His heart was pounding now. And his lungs felt like they would never have enough air in them again. When he opened the door to let himself out of the truck, his hands were shaking. Jonathan’s mind turned to his research, to the notebook that was still lying open on the dining room table. As much as he wanted to dissect this new brand of trepidation he was experiencing, he would have to wait to write down his observations until after Eddie was gone. 

“This place is huge,” Eddie remarked, following Jonathan through the front door into the foyer. “I don’t think I’ve ever been inside a house this big.”

“My family came from old money,” Jonathan told him. “Money’s all gone now, though. All that’s left is this property.”

“You own this house?” Eddie asked, eyes wide. 

Jonathan shook his head. “Not for long. Turns out my Granny never paid her excise taxes…” That had been a fun conversation with the family accountant.

Eddie was pulling off his tennis shoes and setting them neatly on the carpet by the door. He set them side by side, so that the toes and heels were perfectly flush with each other, and tucked the laces carefully inside. “That sucks,” he said. Content with the placement of his shoes, he turned to grin up at Jonathan. It made Jonathan’s lungs clench tighter. “How about giving me a tour, while it’s still yours?”

“Uh, ok.” Was that a normal thing to do? Jonathan had never entertained company before. Granny had always locked him in his room when she had people over. “Well, this is the foyer.” He motioned slightly with his arms. “And over here is the sitting room. We- I haven’t got a television.”

“Not big on cleaning up after yourself, hmm?” Eddie asked. He scrunched up his nose as he looked over the mess of papers and dishes and laundry that Jonathan had left around the room.  
Oh. That was something regular people got embarrassed about, wasn’t it? 

“I’m…” Once again, he didn’t know what to say.

“I’m kidding,” Eddie said, huffing out a small laugh. “I mean, it’s pretty bad, yeah. I could never live like this. But you’ve had a tough year. I don’t blame you for wanting to be lazy.”

Jonathan wondered just how much Eddie knew about how tough his year had been. There had definitely been talk, after his great grandmother had died. Talk that Jonathan had been responsible. That he had killed her himself. There was no evidence, but that never stopped people from talking. Eddie lived with the Sheriff; he had to have heard…

“This is the dining room,” Jonathan said. He went to the table, swiftly closing his research notebook and tucking it under some of the other books. 

“What’s all this?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the texts and papers stacked there.

“Homework.”

“It’s summer, though.”

Jonathan sighed. He was starting to regret allowing the redhead into his home. “It’s for college. I’m going to Georgia State in the fall.”

“I didn’t know that! What are you going to major in?”

“Psychology,” Jonathan said. “And I might add a second major later on, once I decide on one.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Maybe for someone who’s not used to working hard.”

Eddie laughed. “I work plenty, but only on things I think are worth it.”

Jonathan looked at him shrewdly. “Like that puzzle you were showing off to the girls with yesterday?”

“My Rubik’s cube?” Eddie laughed harder. “I had that thing cracked in the third grade! It’s a really simple algorithm. I can show you some time.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “If that’s easy, then what do you work hard on?”

“I like to build things. Computers, mostly.”

“That sounds complicated. I gotta admit I don’t know much about tech and things.”

“’Tech and things’ are my favorite,” Eddie said, eyes far away. “I wanted to go to school in Chicago and be a part of their robotics program, but I got held back from graduating… for… behavioral issues.” He was chewing his lip again, teeth tearing off the thin layer of skin that clung there. “I have a genius level intellect, you know.”

There was that arrogance again.

“The guy that gave me the test,” Eddie continued, speech hastening. “He told me he’d never seen anyone score so high before. Said I could go anywhere I want for college, that schools would be begging me to attend them… I was all set to graduate and then the guidance counselor called me down and told me that I was being kept back. Yeah, maybe I cut class a few too many times, but I got 100’s on all of my tests. How could they deny me my credits over something as trivial as attendance?” 

Jonathan wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say anything or not. No one had ever vented to him like that before. Did he tell Eddie that he was right and that his administrators had been fools? Because that didn’t seem entirely truthful. “That… sucks,” was all Jonathan could think to say.

“I was supposed to attend summer school,” Eddie said, leaning his ass against the edge of the dining table, arms crossed against his chest. “To make up some of the credits. But then I… got in some trouble… and my Dad stuck me in a plane and sent me to god damn fucking Georgia to live with my Mom and the Sheriff for the summer. To straighten me out.”

There was an inflection on ‘straighten’ that Jonathan didn’t quite understand. 

“Georgia is an awful punishment,” he offered.

Eddie tittered, his lean shoulders bouncing. The playful light in his eyes was back. “Atlanta, huh? Why don’t you just leave the state altogether?”

“Baby steps,” Jonathan said, chuckling a little himself. 

“You have a really nice smile, Jonathan.” 

“What?” What? 

Eddie strummed his fingertips along the edge of his own elbow. “Your smile, it’s nice. I don’t see it often.”

Jonathan turned his face away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. He shuffled through the papers on the table, stacking them together needlessly. “I don’t usually have much reason to smile.”

“That’s a real shame.” 

Eddie walked over to Jonathan’s side of the table and stood next to him, surveying the books piled on the table. Their sudden proximity made the hairs on Jonathan’s neck stand on end. He could practically hear his own pulse. Eddie reached past him, bare arm brushing Jonathan’s sleeve. He held his breath, not knowing why. 

Eddie picked up one of the books. “Encyclopedia of Phobias,” he read the title aloud. “So spooky.”

Jonathan sighed audibly, anxiety replaced with sudden annoyance. “Spooky? Do you have any idea how debilitating phobias can be? How many people can’t leave their own houses because they’re afraid? Mysophobia- the fear of germs, amaxophobia- fear of riding in cars, iatrophobia- fear of doctors, hylophobia- fear of trees and forests… Can you imagine living that way? Absolutely consumed by terror every minute of every day?”

“Oh.” Eddie put the book back down on the table. He looked down for a moment, and Jonathan thought maybe his outburst had upset the boy. But when Eddie looked up, his florid face was sporting an enormous grin. “That is the most passionately I have ever heard anyone speak about anything in my life!” he exclaimed breathlessly. He pulled out a chair and sat down in it, elbows on the table and eyes alight. “Please, tell me more.”

This one was never going to stop surprising him, was he? 

Jonathan’s thoughts were a blur. Where to begin? There was so much to tell! “Have you ever heard of exposure therapy?” he asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. 

Eddie nodded. “I know it’s used in OCD treatment, sometimes.”

“Yes, but it’s also used in treating phobias. The idea is that if you slowly introduce the patient to their fear, a little at a time, in a controlled environment, that eventually they can rid themselves of their phobia altogether. But…” He thought about what to say next. “What if you could do what exposure therapy does but in a fraction of the time?” 

Eddie’s eyes were sparkling, his attention fully on Jonathan’s words. “How?”

“If you could somehow flood the brain with fear, and guide the patient on a kind of spirit journey of pure, unadulterated terror… maybe they could come out the other side as a completely fearless person. “  
“But isn’t that how you get trauma victims?” Eddie asked. “No disrespect to your theory, but, well, isn’t that why exposure therapy works and tossing someone who’s afraid of drowning off a boat doesn’t? 

Jonathan nodded. “You’re smart.” He didn’t miss how Eddie’s cheeks went ruddy at the compliment. “That’s why it would have to be totally consensual. To undergo absolute fear against your will, I can’t imagine what might happen. But if they really want it, if they go into it with the mindset that they’re going to have peace in the end, I don’t see why it couldn’t work.”

Eddie scratched his chin thoughtfully. “That makes sense. But, pray tell, how do you achieve a state of absolute fear? Would it be through a drug, or?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking hypnosis, or sensory deprivation… But a drug… That ain’t a bad idea.” He reached for his notebook and began hastily jotting down notes. “What else? What kind of a drug would it have to be?”

They sat at the table and talked excitedly for a long, long time. Jonathan couldn’t remember ever being so elated to speak with another person. And Eddie had some very good ideas.

 

\--

 

“Oh fuck!” Eddie said, looking at the watch on his slender, freckled wrist. He jumped up out of his seat. “I’m late. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m sorry, “Jonathan said, standing as well and picking up his keys from the table. “I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“It’s not your fault. I should have been paying attention.” Eddie practically ran to the foyer and began putting on his shoes. “I’m so dead. Oh fuck…”

They didn’t speak much in the truck. Every so often Eddie would curse under his breath, and glance down at his watch anxiously. His knees were bouncing up and down with so much force that the cab of the truck rocked. He rushed through two whole cigarettes on the way there. When they were almost to Eddie’s house, he said, “Jon, can you drop me off at the end of the road? I… They can’t see me getting dropped off by a guy.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, please. I’ll… I’ll explain tomorrow.”

Jonathan frowned, but obliged. “OK. Here,” he said, stopping the truck. “Go on, get.”

Eddie’s bottom lip was sucked so far into his mouth it looked like he didn’t have one. His whole body was trembling. “Thanks,” he said, stepping uneasily out of the truck. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Jonathan said, surprising them both. 

Eddie looked like he was going to say something, but all he said was “Bye.” 

Jonathan watched Eddie jog his way down the road towards the farmhouse, until he couldn’t see him anymore. “Bye,” he whispered into the empty night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am well aware that crows cannot thrive on chicken feed alone. But you know who doesn't know that? Jonathan.
> 
> Thank you for reading! XOXO


	4. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie smiled warmly at him, and Jonathan felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Every time he thought he was getting used to the way friendship felt, it would get worse. The ache was getting stronger and stronger...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cw for internalized homophobia)

Jonathan couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. The fear that had choked him at the prospect of companionship. Eddie, in his house, at his table, smiling at him, sharing with him. The way that he had listened to Jonathan, engaged with him, like no one ever had. Eddie’s anxiety when he realized he had missed his curfew. His insistence that his mother and step father did not see Jonathan dropping him off. 

That part Jonathan had guessed at the answer to. Eddie had made up some half-baked reason (A guy? What could that even mean?) but Jonathan had seen the look on Mrs. Jameson’s face when she saw him in his truck the previous evening. The Sheriff had surely told her the rumor, that Jonathan had killed his grandmother. And naturally, she didn’t want her son hanging around a murderer.

He just hoped that Eddie was willing to disobey his mother’s wishes. Now that Jonathan had experienced friendship, he wanted more of it.

His shift at the general store dragged on. The heat was oppressive, worse than it had ever been in recent memory. The standing fan did nothing but blow warm air on Jonathan’s neck. He snapped at a couple of his customers that day. They threatened to tell the owner, but Jonathan knew they weren’t going to bother the old man on such an already miserable day. 

At four o’clock, he rushed out the door and into his truck, and went straight to the diner. He didn’t even bother to get coffee on the way there. He sat in his truck, eyes fixed on the side of the street where he knew Eddie would be coming from. After twenty or so minutes, he appeared, face down, watching his own feet as he walked. It was a marked difference from his usual boisterous gait. 

What had happened after Jonathan had dropped him off? He had to know. He crushed his spent cigarette out with the heel of his boot and followed Eddie inside. 

Eddie was quiet at work again. Jonathan was disappointed, but not surprised. Still, he was eager for their smoke break to come. Hopefully in the bed of his truck, Eddie would give him answers. 

 

\--

 

Break time came, and Jonathan almost tripped over his own feet as he rushed down the steps to the parking lot. Eddie met him at the truck after a few minutes, and they sat in their usual positions. Jonathan leaning against the back window, legs straight out across the truck bed. Eddie with his furry red legs pretzeled beneath him. Jonathan handed him a cigarette without him even having to ask. Up close, Eddie looked worse for wear.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Jonathan asked. It was strange, caring. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or despised it.

Eddie took a deep breath. “Not really. Sheriff chewed me out for a few hours after I got in. Then I couldn’t really fall asleep.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Sheriff? No, no, he’s not the one…” Eddie trailed off, as if he realized suddenly what he was about to say. 

Jonathan chose not to pry. It’s what he would have expected from Eddie, were their positions reversed. 

Eddie started to laugh, but it was grim, sardonic. “I hate this fucking town.”

“You and me both,” Jonathan said. “I can’t wait for summer to be over.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, expression softening. “But then you won’t get to hang out with me anymore.”

Jonathan hadn’t thought about that. He was so caught up in this newfound friendship that he had completely forgotten that it came with an expiration date attached. “I’ll just have to savor my time with you, then,” he said, disguising his brazen honesty in a veil of sarcasm.

Eddie laughed. It was his real laugh this time. 

They puffed on their cigarettes in silence for a short time. 

“There’s more to my story about why I’m here… and I’m going to explain what happened. I know you want to know,” Eddie said. “I just, I don’t want to do it at work.”

“Ok.” Jonathan nodded. “You don’t have to tell me at all, if you don’t want to.”

Eddie smiled warmly at him, and Jonathan felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Every time he thought he was getting used to the way friendship felt, it would get worse. The ache was getting stronger and stronger. Eddie was gorgeous even in his exhausted state. His eyes were tired, and his lips were puffy from his constant chewing. The part in his hair was not as neat as usual; he was probably too tired to care. There were a few loose strands hanging over his forehead. Jonathan thought about fixing it for him, but that didn’t seem appropriate. 

“Let’s get inside before Carol has a fit,” Eddie said, standing up. He stretched, hands at the small of his back. His silhouette against the neon lights of the diner behind him was… striking. 

Jonathan felt a stirring in his own body. Not the fear, and not the ache, but similar. 

No, not similar. 

Bad. Wrong. 

Sinful.

He clenched his fist, willing the feeling away, and that worked in the sense that he accidently burned his hand on his cigarette. “Aw, shit,” he hissed.

Eddie took no notice, as he was already halfway across the lot. 

 

\--

 

At ten o’clock, Eddie’s step-father pulled up outside the diner in his police cruiser. Eddie gave Jonathan one, somber look, before crossing the lot and getting in the car. Jonathan had almost forgotten that his giving Eddie a ride home the last two nights had been an unusual occurrence. How quickly his perspective of the world had changed in less than 72 hours… 

 

That night Jonathan lie awake in his bed, haunted by the images of Eddie’s rosy bottom lip, the ginger hair on his calves, his lithe silhouette as he had stretched his back… The fear that came with them was like a fog, smothering him, swallowing him up. He kept thinking that he heard shuffled footsteps in the hall outside his room, the cough of an elderly woman. But she was dead. Buried in the yard beside all his other horrid relatives. It was the house settling, a rodent chewing away inside the wall. She couldn’t hurt him now. She couldn’t have even if she was alive. Not for having a friend. Not for thinking things he couldn’t help thinking.

Jonathan didn’t believe in God. He hadn’t for a long time. No righteous deity would have sat back and let that vile woman do the things she had done. But still, the fear crept through him, made his blood run cold, even in the heat of the Southern summer night. Sinner. He tried to think of anything but Eddie’s smile, his small pink tongue poking through his teeth as he was lost in thought, his freckles and his perfect red eyebrows. Filthy sinner. He was plagued by the images in his head. Eddie’s knees bouncing with anxiety and pent-up energy, his fingers twisting at that silly Rubik’s cube, his fingers smoothing at his hair, his fingers touching his cracked and bloody mouth. His mouth… 

Filthy, dirty, sinful boy. The Lord will punish you for that. 

The fear was intense, overwhelming, but Jonathan would not write about it in his notebook. 

 

\--

 

Jonathan didn’t see much of Eddie over the next few days. They had their smoke breaks and snuck in some light chatting at the sink when they could. The explanation that Eddie had promised never came, but it wasn’t forgotten. Jonathan kept hoping Eddie would ask him for another ride home, or to invite himself back to the house with him. But every night Edward’s step-father would pick him up, and when he arrived Eddie always seemed to stiffen his posture and put as much distance as he could between Jonathan and himself. He clearly didn’t want the Sheriff knowing they were friends. That only confirmed Jonathan’s suspicions. They thought he was a killer, and didn’t want him around their son. 

What did Eddie think, he wondered?

 

-

 

It was a surprise, when Eddie came in to the general store. Jonathan hadn’t seen him there since they first met. He heard him before he saw him, just like before. The soft pad of tennis shoes along the floor. He was grinning when Jonathan looked up. 

“I had my date with Jessica last night,” Eddie said, forgoing any kind of greeting.

Jonathan had forgotten about that. His stomach churned. Scoffing, he lowered his eyes back to his book. 

“Don’t you want to hear about it?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to try and catch Jonathan’s gaze. 

“Not particularly,” Jonathan answered, denying him the right.

“Well that’s too bad,” the obnoxious pain in his ass said, completely ignoring Jonathan’s words. “Because a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Had he kissed her? The thought made Jonathan’s blood boil. 

“Did you want something?” he asked gruffly. His hands were clutching the paperback so hard he nearly tore it in half. 

In his peripheral vision, he saw Eddie’s shoulders slump, assumedly realizing that this wasn’t just their usual banter. “I just wanted to buy a pop, and to say hello. I feel like I haven’t seen a whole lot of you lately… Are you on dish duty tonight?”

“I’m on dish duty every night.” 

Eddie shifted on his feet. Jonathan wasn’t looking at him but he knew that boy’s fingers were dancing anxiously at his sides. “So I’ll see you in a few hours, I guess.” 

“Guess so,” Jonathan said, still not looking up.

Eddie didn’t pay for his Coke, he just walked out with it in his hand. Jonathan didn’t stop him. 

 

-

 

Jonathan stood at the large stainless steel sink, laboring over a pan which sported a very stubborn stain. He heard giggling across the kitchen. That awful Jessica was talking in a hushed tone with the other two waitresses. Every now and then they would glance over at Eddie and laugh together animatedly.

Eddie was in the corner of the room, fidgeting with the drawstring of his apron. Despite his height, he looked so very small. His sad eyes moved from the girls over to Jonathan, meeting his stare.

Jonathan’s heart sank with realization. 

 

-

 

“I didn’t kiss her,” Eddie admitted, climbing over the tailgate of the truck and taking his usual place at Jonathan’s feet.

Jonathan regarded him for a moment before wordlessly passing him a cigarette. 

“I tried to,” Eddie continued, taking the cigarette between his fingers but not lighting it. His tone was so different from the false pride he’d spoken with at the store that morning. “But she laughed at me. She told me I was weird. Called me a hyperactive freak…”

After carefully considering his words, Jonathan asked, “Why did you tell me you did?”

“I guess I… I wanted to impress you.” He was staring down at his hands, teeth worrying at his bottom lip like always.

Jonathan shook his head. “Jessica is a horrible girl, Eddie. That never would have impressed me.” 

He held out his lighter in an offering of peace. 

Eddie nodded, putting the cigarette between his lips. He leaned forward, over Jonathan’s legs, so that Jonathan could light it for him. The end of the cigarette glowed bright orange as Eddie inhaled, eyes unyielding as they searched Jonathan’s face in much the same way as they had that first night. He sighed, posture relaxing, as a cloud of smoke coiled from his mouth, and he sat back with a small smile.

Jonathan couldn’t stop replaying that moment in his head, for hours and hours afterward. 

 

\--

 

The heat wave saw its peak the following day. Less than half an hour into Jonathan’s dishwashing shift, the power in the diner went out. 

“Damn folks and their air conditioners,” Carol lamented. “And my generator‘s busted… Welp, it looks like you boys get the day off today.”

Eddie turned to Jonathan with a big, open-mouthed smile. 

 

\--

 

“What do you wanna do today?” he asked, following Jonathan into the cab of the truck. He was back to his usual chipper self today, Jessica’s slight against him either forgotten or ignored.

“Who said I was spending my day off with you?” Jonathan said snidely.

Eddie paused, seat belt extended in his grasp. “Oh, I’m sorry, I…”

“Gotcha!” Jonathan laughed.

“I should have believed you before,” Eddie snorted, resuming the buckling of his seatbelt. 

“’Bout what?”

“You really are an asshole.” 

They laughed together. 

“Do you know anywhere around here where we can go swimming?” Eddie asked. “That’s the perfect thing to do in this heat.”

Jonathan nodded. “There’s a lake at the edge of my family’s property. I don’t really swim though.”

“You can watch me swim then,” Eddie said with a theatrical wink.

“I hate you, you know that?”

 

\--

 

Jonathan couldn’t remember the last time he had gone down to the lake. It had to have been years. The path through the woods that led to it was grown over heavily. “We’ll have to check ourselves for ticks later,” he said, pushing his way between two tall bushes and then holding one to the side to allow Eddie through. 

“Yuck!” Eddie looked disgusted as the branches grazed his bare arms. “Nature is awful.”

“Nature ain’t anything,” Jonathan told him. “Nature is just nature.”

“Wow, did you come up with that just now?”

Jonathan released the branch and let it slap against Eddie’s face. 

“Fuck! What was that for?”

“For teasing me.”

“You tease me all the time.”

“I can’t help it,” Jonathan said. “You’re just so easy.”

Eddie pouted, crossing his arms. “Rude. That’s what you are… Is that the lake over there?”

“Yep.”

Just downhill, beyond the trees, was a modest sandy beach. The lake twinkled beneath the bright sun. 

“Is that a lifeguard’s chair?” Eddie asked. He was already tugging his shoes off. 

“Yeah, this used to be a town beach, when I was real little. A girl drowned though, one summer. They closed it down not long after that.”

Eddie was placing his socks and shoes down on the sand, neatly side by side as he had done at the house. He took off his watch and tucked in inside one of the shoes. “Aww, that’s sad,” he said.

“I guess. I never knew her.” Jonathan decided to take off his boots. He sat down on a log and began to untie them. “Folks used to say she haunted the lake. That she’d pull you down under if you swam out too far.”

“Spooky.”

Jonathan narrowed his eyes at Eddie’s word choice.

Eddie chuckled. He pulled off his t-shirt, folded it neatly and rested it on top of his shoes. He straightened his back, looking out over the water.

Jonathan found himself staring. Eddie’s torso was every bit as freckled as his cheeks. He was well-built, lean and modestly muscled, the kind of figure common in young men who had lots of energy. His skin was flushed and glistening with sweat. There were scars on his upper arms and shoulders- Jonathan had guesses about how they’d got there, but that was Eddie’s own business, and he wouldn’t ask. In the center of his chest there was stubble, implying that he shaved it, which Jonathan again had no idea was something people did. But much more interestingly, below his navel there was a trail of thick hair, which disappeared into the front of his shorts. The hairs were glowing fiery red in the sunlight. 

Jonathan turned his head away as soon as Eddie looked over, shame and fear encircling his guts. It wasn’t right to think the things he’d been thinking. His Granny would find out. He’d be punished. 

She’s dead, he had to remind himself. She can’t do nothin’ now.

“You sure you don’t want to come in with me?” Eddie asked. 

“I’ll just wade a little,” Jonathan said, rolling his pant legs up. “I don’t like swimmin’.”

Eddie smirked. “Do you not know how?”

“I know how!” Jonathan snapped. “Just don’t like to.”

“Mmhmm, whatever you say,” Eddie answered in feigned disbelief, and dropped his shorts around his feet. Now he was standing in nothing but his boxers. Jonathan looked down at the sand below, hoping his face didn’t look as red as it felt. Was Eddie doing this on purpose? Did he know? Without looking back at Jonathan, Eddie folded his shorts and put them with his other clothes, and then walked out towards the water.

Jonathan stayed on the shore, dipping his feet in every so often. He should have brought a book. Eddie swam very far out across the lake, so that all Jonathan could see was the top of his orange head bobbing in the water. He hoped the ghost stories weren’t true. He’d have been sad if Eddie drowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These boys need to STAHP. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


	5. A Tall Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonathan felt the cold claws of his fear pressing themselves in between his ribs. Crushing him from the inside. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air. How could he tell Eddie what he thought when he didn’t have the words to tell himself? Was he disgusted? A little, but not with what Eddie had done. He was disgusted with himself, for how delighted he felt at the prospect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----CW for homophobia and severe child abuse----  
> This is a very heavy chapter.

After an hour or so, Eddie decided that he was bored with swimming. Jonathan was glad, because he was bored with standing around. Eddie told him to turn around, Jonathan did, and when Eddie told him he could turn back around he was wearing his dry shorts, wet underwear balled up in his hands. The implication made Jonathan blanch.

“I really should have brought a towel,” Eddie said, dragging his shirt on over his damp skin. 

Jonathan didn’t answer, as he was too preoccupied fighting the improper thoughts in his head. The fear gnawed at him the whole way as the two of them made their way back through the woods to the house. 

“Still want a towel?” Jonathan asked when they were inside. “I think I have a clean one around here…”

“Please,” Eddie said. His wet hair was sticking flat to his forehead. It made him look a little less put together than he usually did. Jonathan thought it was an improvement.

He watched as Eddie toweled off his hair and tried hopelessly to part it with his hands in the bathroom mirror. His attention to his own appearance was almost pathological, it seemed. 

“Have you got anything to eat?” he asked, having given up on fixing his part and joining Jonathan in the kitchen. “I haven’t had a bite all day.”

“Not much, but I can fix you a sandwich?” Jonathan went to the refrigerator. “Turkey and cheese sound good?”

Eddie smiled, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter beside Jonathan. “That sounds great. Real mayonnaise, though, not Miracle Whip.”

“I don’t even know what Miracle Whip is,” Jonathan said. 

Eddie laughed.

Jonathan liked it when Eddie laughed, even if he didn’t always understand what the joke was.

\--

“I’m just saying, all tortoises are turtles but not all turtles are tortoises.” 

“Ok, Eddie, but why are you saying that?”

“Because it’s true!”

Jonathan looked at him. “Why are you talking about turtles at all?”

Eddie opened his mouth to answer but stopped. “I… guess I got sidetracked. What were we talking about?”

“You were telling me about your parents.”

“Oh. Oh yeah…” Eddie pushed the uneaten crusts of his sandwich around on his plate. “Anyway, they got divorced when I was like three. My mom moved away and I stayed back with my dad in Indiana. I don’t really know my mother… Before I came here, I’d only seen her a handful of times. She’s basically a stranger.”

“I never knew my mother, either,” Jonathan said. “I was only a baby when she disappeared.”

“Your father?”

“Don’t know who he is. From what I’ve heard, I’m not sure my mother did, either.”

Eddie chewed his lip, fiddled with his crusts some more. “I stole a car!” he blurted out.

“What?”

“I stole a car,” Eddie repeated. “I mean, technically my ex stole it. I just happened to be present for the stealing and in it when the cops arrived. And apparently legally that’s the same thing as stealing a car… The owner didn’t press charges though, luckily. Still, my dad…” He trailed off. 

“Oh… So, is that the trouble that got you sent here for the summer?”

Eddie nodded slowly.

“That’s not near as scandalous as I thought it was gonna be. You could ‘a told me that before.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that,” Eddie said. His cheeks had begun to glow bright red. He hesitated, choosing his words. “It was my ex’s dad’s car. He didn’t know we had it… We weren’t supposed to have it. And he called the police. We were parked on a back road, and a cop saw the car, recognized it matched the description of the stolen vehicle that had just been reported… So, he came to the window, and found us in a… compromising position.” He covered his face in his hands. “It was mortifying.”

“Ohh,” Jonathan said. “That’s a bit more scandalous. But, you’re a teenager. Who cares if you were messing around in a car with a girl?” 

“Boy,” Eddie said through his fingers, not removing his hands from his face.

“Huh?”

Eddie’s tone was hushed. Jonathan could only just hear him. “I was in a car with a boy.” 

Jonathan’s mouth was suddenly very dry. “Oh,” he whispered. “Ohh…”

Eddie had sunk down in his chair, arms folded over the table, face hidden in them. 

“Um…” Jonathan didn’t know what to say. The fear was at him again, pumping through his spine like ice. Eddie was a… and he… and Jonathan was… and he felt… 

“Please say something.” Eddie’s voice was so tiny. The fear was in him too.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jonathan confessed.

“Do you hate me now?”

How could he? 

“No. No, Eddie, I don’t hate you.”

“Are you disgusted?”

Jonathan felt the cold claws of his fear pressing themselves in between his ribs. Crushing him from the inside. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air. How could he tell Eddie what he thought when he didn’t have the words to tell himself? Was he disgusted? A little, but not with what Eddie had done. He was disgusted with himself, for how delighted he felt at the prospect. 

“Are you ok?” Eddie asked. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m…” He couldn’t speak. Even if he had the words, his mouth couldn’t form them. The terror was paralyzing. 

Eddie pushed his chair away from the table and got to his feet. “I’ll go. I’ll… I’ll just go…” Was he crying? 

Without a thought, Jonathan’s hand shot out across the table and grabbed hold of Eddie’s wrist. His skin was still cool and clammy from being in the lake. Jonathan’s heart swelled in his chest. He was touching Eddie’s skin. He felt like he was going to die. 

Eddie looked back at him. He was definitely crying. 

No, no, beautiful boy, don’t cry… 

Jonathan still didn’t know what to say. Eddie’s bottom lip was bleeding, but he didn’t even seem to notice. 

“Stay,” Jonathan managed, and released Eddie’s wrist.

Eddie complied, sitting back down in his chair. He wiped hard at the tears on his face, and ran a shaking hand through his own damp hair. He laughed nervously. “I’m sorry,” he said, licking at the blood on his mouth.

“For what?” Jonathan asked. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so sick. 

Eddie shook. “I don’t know. I’m just sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Two word sentences were all Jonathan seemed to be capable of. His hand was tingling, where his flesh had pressed into Eddie’s. He had felt his bones, and his tendons, and the soft hair that grew on the back of his wrist. It thrilled him and made him want to vomit all at once.

They sat at the table, not looking at each other for what felt like forever.

“Thank you,” Eddie said, very, very quietly. 

They were both trembling.

 

\--

 

They didn’t talk about it anymore that day. Eddie collected their plates and washed not only those but all the dishes in the sink and throughout the house. Jonathan tried to protest but Eddie insisted. 

“This will never get done if someone doesn’t do it for you.” How did he know Jonathan so well already? And what else did he know? 

Jonathan’s palms were sweating. 

With the dishes rinsed and laid out to dry, Eddie joined him again at the dining table. They got right to work, pouring over the stack of reference books, discussing different psychoactive drugs, which ones could be used to achieve the mental state Jonathan was after. Jonathan didn’t have a lot of knowledge in that area, but Eddie seemed to know a lot. It surprised him at first, until he remembered that though Eddie was almost a year younger than him, he was much more experienced in life. 

He experimented with drugs, and he shoplifted, and he built computers, and traveled to other states, and went on dates with stuck-up waitresses, and kissed boys in the backs of stolen cars… 

Jonathan felt like an ignorant child next to him. The feeling was novel and unpleasant. Jonathan suddenly realized with dismay that he knew nothing of the world, beyond what he’d read in books. 

But maybe Eddie could teach him. 

If he chose to… 

Not that he would, Jonathan thought to himself.

After all, the world seemed a tall order. 

 

\--

 

The following day was Sunday. Jonathan didn’t have work, as all the businesses in town were closed. He didn’t go to church, hadn’t been since Granny died. He knew that Eddie would be at church, that his mother and Sheriff Jameson forced him to go every weekend. He tried not to think about how miserable poor Edward must be, listening to the sermon. Likely they were talking about people like him. 

Jonathan hoped that he and Eddie would have a day off together again soon. Maybe they could go back to the lake. Jonathan would like that, even if it was a bit boring. He wanted to be with Eddie, to sit next to him, to listen to him ramble on about turtles or robotics or whatever other subject his brilliant, scattered mind wandered to. He craved the noise.

The house was too silent. 

Jonathan had always savored silence. It had meant safety. But now, the quiet only reminded him of just how alone he was. Loneliness itself had never bothered him before. But now it hurt. Eddie was softening him, and he didn’t altogether hate it.

But the silence also made it impossible for Jonathan to stop thinking about what Eddie had told him. He had been so convinced that Jonathan would hate him for it, that he would be disgusted with him. And Jonathan had not reacted especially warmly. He hoped Eddie had not mistaken his anxiety for revulsion. Jonathan was a man of science, and he had reasoned a long time ago that there was no God. There was no afterlife. No such thing as sin. And a person’s sexuality was as natural as their eye color or right-or-left handedness. 

He wasn’t homophobic. At least, not towards anyone but himself… 

He wanted to explain. 

But how could he explain?

Jonathan had always known, ever since he was a child, that something was different about him. His great grandmother had told him that it was because he’d been born out of wedlock, born out of sin. When he was young and still believed in such things, it made sense to him that being born from sin meant he was destined for it. That’s what Granny had said, when she locked him in the chapel. He was sin incarnate, and had to repent for his very existence.

He spent his early life in constant terror, stricken by the sinful thoughts that seemed to plague him no matter how hard he tried to be pious. He thought ill words towards his granny- a sin. He coveted the toys the other children were allowed to play with- a sin. He forgot to say grace before tasting his dinner- a sin. And she always knew. Granny knew his every mischievous thought. 

When he reached puberty, his sinful thoughts only worsened. The other boys were ogling after girls, but Jonathan was panicking over boys. With their deepening voices and their stubbled chins. Their muscled legs and their rippling bellies. He found himself coveting much more than toys or extra dinner. And he began to have dreams. Beautiful, terrifying, awful dreams. About hard mouths and hot breath and hairy arms. He would wake from them sweating and crying and begging God to forgive him.

Granny beat him for his wet sheets. She told him his filthy thoughts would only lead him down a path to wretchedness. She said thinking that way about girls would be his ruin. It was then that he finally realized that his great grandmother could not read his mind. 

Not long after, he came to realize that the God he so feared was a lie.

Still, the conditioning stuck with him. He heard the old crone’s voice in his head, even after her death. Dirty sinner. Filthy sinner. God can see you. God knows. You’ll burn for all eternity…

Jonathan had known for a long time what he really was. 

And now, at long last, he had met someone who could understand. Someone it could be safe to tell. He wanted, so desperately, to tell Eddie. To confess everything. The dreams and the soiled sheets and the ache tearing its way through his stomach even now. The secret was welling up in his chest, raring to be let loose, but he didn’t know how. He had never spoken the words aloud to himself. His fear had never allowed him to.

But if he was going to be a Master of fear, he would have to confront this one sometime or another. Preferably sooner than later.

Now. 

He had to confront it now. 

I’m gay, he thought. The fear unfurled in the bottom of his chest, crawling like vines up his ribcage, tendrils of ice wrapping round his bones. 

I’m a gay man.

His breathing went shallow. His stomach grew cold. There was bile at the back of his throat. The inside of his mind was a cacophony of beating wings and slamming doors. He could hear his own screaming in his head, the memory so clear as if he had been a witness and not the subject. 

“I’m gay,” he whispered. He barely heard his own voice over the resonant cawing in his mind. 

Terror flooded him. He swore he smelled fire. Bird feces. Blood. 

He would just have to practice. Practice until saying it didn’t feel like poison on his tongue. 

“Eddie,” he said, a little louder now, imagining the boy standing before him in his room. He pictured his ginger hair and those twinkling hazel eyes. The sore swollen lips he had been aching to kiss for weeks. 

“Eddie, I’m gay.” The scars on his back were burning. He could feel the ghosts of talons ripping at his flesh, marring him. 

Jonathan tore off his glasses in order to rub furiously at his eyes. They itched, suddenly. When he pulled back his hands they were wet. His eyes were wet. 

He hadn’t cried in years. 

“I’m…” The fear was strangling him now. The vines were thick inside his throat, a stopper to keep the sinful noise from exiting him. He had to fight it. He couldn’t let it consume him for a minute longer. He shook, hugging his arms around himself. “I’m gay… I’m gay,” he sobbed. “I’m fuckin’ gay…” 

Jonathan curled up in a trembling heap on his bed and cried for what might have been hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever try to edit a chapter while crying? 
> 
> Thank you for reading. <3


	6. Hunting and Gathering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They left after nightfall, moving on foot for added secrecy, to the pasture down the road. Eddie was wearing one of Jon’s t-shirts and a pair of his pants, because he didn’t want to get his own clothes dirty. Jonathan watched him, crouching in the mud with a flashlight and a plastic sandwich bag, a look of absolute concentration on his face. 
> 
> “You know you’re crawling around in cow shit right now?” Jonathan said, leaning against the nearby fence post.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: homophobia  
> cw: drugs

Once Jonathan made up his mind to tell Eddie his secret, it seemed like suddenly there was never time to do it. The diner was very busy the next few days, and their smoke breaks were only fifteen minutes long. Eddie’s step father had been picking him up from work each night, robbing Jonathan of the chance to have him alone in the truck or to bring him home with him. 

And when they finally were alone, it was like the words got lost just behind his teeth. 

Another scorching hot day had downed the power at the diner again, and Carol had let the boys go. They were sitting in Jonathan’s living room, Jonathan in a chair and Eddie draped across the couch, drinking sweet tea and talking about books. Jonathan was getting better at it. He was getting used to expressing his opinions, turning his thoughts into words. He had always had a talent for writing- his essays had been a major factor in landing the scholarship that was taking him to University- but somehow that skill had never transferred to the spoken word. His accent was thick, and he stumbled over his words, his expansive inner vocabulary inaccessible to him in his nervousness. And he used words like ‘ain’t’ and ‘y’all’d’ve,’ which Eddie teased him for. 

But Eddie was very encouraging, asking him for elaboration, challenging him when he disagreed. And he always listened so intently to everything Jonathan had to say. It was uncomfortable still, being the focus of someone’s attention. Jonathan was always on guard, ready to be mocked, to be hurt, to be snickered at cruelly, but it never came. Eddie was nothing but kind to him. 

Jonathan had never known anyone like him.

The conversation moved from classic literature to Jonathan’s research. 

“All these entries in your notebook,” Eddie asked, eyes squinting to decipher Jonathan’s handwriting. “What do you do to make yourself so scared? What do you think about?”

Jonathan frowned. “My great grandmother,” he said. He didn’t elaborate, and Eddie didn’t ask him to.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The heat was unbearable, even indoors. The humidity was glued to their skin. The ice in their sweet tea was long melted away. 

“I’m afraid of my dad,” Eddie said suddenly, eyes focused down at his hands. He was picking at a small scab on the back of his finger. “He hits me… burns me… One time he pushed me down the stairs.”

Jonathan felt a rage building inside of him. He had suspected as much, from the way Eddie always trailed off when his father came up, from the scars on his arms. From the way he apologized, completely unprompted, about a hundred times a day. But to hear it, to have it confirmed… 

“Did your great grandmother ever hit you?” Eddie asked, looking up at Jonathan now.

“Yeah,” he said. It was the understatement of the century. 

“Are you glad that she’s dead?” Eddie’s tone had changed. It was darker. His eyes were piercing into Jonathan’s. 

Jonathan almost smiled. “Absolutely.”

If telling Eddie that he was gay worked out alright, then perhaps there were other secrets Jonathan could trust him with… There were a lot of things Jonathan had been prepared to bring with him to the grave. But if Eddie was really his friend, he would understand. If only he could manage to get that first secret out. He was about to try, when Eddie spoke over him.

“Have you thought any more about that fear drug we were talking about?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed as he came to a particularly scribbly section of Jonathan’s notes. Jonathan couldn’t always read his own writing either.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I was actually going to ask you if you could help me get something. Hallucinogens. LSD, maybe? “

Eddie put the notebook down and stared hard at Jonathan. He chuckled. “Jonathan,” he said slowly. “You can’t just go get drugs. You have to know people. And I don’t know anyone around here… If we were back in Indiana it wouldn’t be a problem, but…”

“I… didn’t think of that.” Jonathan felt stupid. Of course Eddie couldn’t just get him acid out of nowhere. He should have realized that.

“But!” Eddie said, grinning. “If you can show me to the nearest cattle farm, I might be able to get us the next best thing.” 

There was a sense of mischief in Eddie’s eyes that Jonathan hadn’t seen before. He liked it quite a lot. 

 

\--

They left after nightfall, moving on foot for added secrecy, to the pasture down the road. Eddie was wearing one of Jon’s t-shirts and a pair of his pants, because he didn’t want to get his own clothes dirty. Jonathan watched him, crouching in the mud with a flashlight and a plastic sandwich bag, a look of absolute concentration on his face. 

“You know you’re crawling around in cow shit right now?” Jonathan said, leaning against the nearby fence post. 

“Yes, I know that, Jonathan.” 

“You, Mr. ‘Nature is awful,’” Jonathan teased.

“Nature isn’t anything, remember? Oh wait.” He paused, chuckling a little. “’Nature ain’t anything!’” he said in his best imitation of Jonathan’s accent.

Jonathan huffed through his nose. “I don’t sound like that.”

“Oh, yes. Yes you do,” Eddie said. “Ha! I found one!” 

He plucked the small beige mushroom from the ground, holding it up for Jonathan to see.

“That’s it?” Jonathan asked. “It just looks like a regular old mushroom.”

Eddie put it in the bag, and began scanning the area for more. “Yeah, I hope I’m identifying them correctly. I’ve never done this on my own before.”

“What happens if they’re the wrong kind?” Jonathan asked. 

“At the very least, food poisoning. At the worst…” He shrugged his shoulders. “We might die.”

Jonathan shook his head. “That’s a comforting thought.”

“I know, isn’t it? Ahaha! Another one!” 

“Who did you do this with before?”

Eddie scoffed. “My ex-boyfriend.” 

Jonathan asked, “What was his name?”

Eddie was combing through the grass with his fingers. “Jeremy,” he answered. “It doesn’t matter though. He broke up with me after we got caught in his dad’s car. I found out later that he was cheating on me anyway. I… Why do you want to know?” He looked up from his search, shining the flashlight at Jonathan’s face.

Jonathan put his hands up over his eyes. “Fuck! Don’t point that at my face, Eddie!” 

“Sorry.” He lowered it.

“I was just curious,” Jonathan said. “Have… have you ever dated anybody else?”

“Girls or boys?”

“Both. Either.”

Eddie frowned. “No. Just Jeremy.”

“He shouldn’t have hurt you like that.”

“No,” Eddie said darkly, zipping up the bag, apparently satisfied with his hunt. “He shouldn’t have.” 

As they walked back down the road together, Jonathan thought about how nice it would be to hold Eddie’s hand. To feel the warmth of his palm against his own. Jonathan stuffed his hands in his pockets instead. 

\--

Eddie said the mushrooms would have to dry out for a day or so. He left them at the manor with Jonathan, since bringing hallucinogenic drugs into the sheriff’s house didn’t seem like a smart idea. Jonathan was nervous. He’d never so much as had a drink. And a part of him feared what he might see. There wasn’t much goodness inside of his head. He had few, if any, happy memories. But this was for his research. His therapy might save lives. 

And Eddie would be with him. 

\--

Aside from the general store and washing dishes, Jonathan did odd jobs for one of the farms in town. The farmer called for him early Friday morning. Jonathan tugged on the same dirty clothes he’d worn the day before. He needed to do laundry. He hadn’t had clean clothes in over a week. He’d been shuffling between the same two or three shirts, hoping no one would notice, but they were starting to smell. Maybe Eddie could help him out, make the chore go faster. Eddie made everything better. Jonathan couldn’t wait to get to work that evening and see him. He fed the birds and swallowed down a cup of coffee and made his way to the farm. 

 

“Hey Scarecrow, over here.” 

The farmer was standing at the edge of the property with his son, who was older than Jonathan, and his daughter, who was a year or two younger. He told Jonathan they needed help building a stone wall. It was back breaking work, lugging heavy stones from one side of the farm yard to the other, but the farmer paid well and Jonathan was in desperate need of more books. 

 

“You work with the sheriff’s step-son, don’t you?” The farmer asked. “What’s his name, Andy?”

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Eddie,” the farmer’s son said. “I heard he’s a queer.” 

“No shit, really?” the farmer asked. 

His son laughed. “Yeah I heard he got caught sucking some guy off and his old man shipped him down here to be with his mother.”

“Don’t talk like that in front of your sister.”

“It’s ok, daddy. I heard about that too.”

“How would you know about that?”

“My friend’s boyfriend does dispatch for the police station. Heard the sheriff talkin’ about it.”

“Disgusting.”

“Hey Jonny, has lil’ Eddie tried sucking your dick yet?”

Jonathan didn’t answer. He was trying not to listen at all. The rage in his belly was building, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blowing up.

“I’d shoot a fella right in the face if he tried fucking me.”

“Nobody would wanna fuck you, Billy.”

“Hey! Language! And quit messing around and get back to work.” 

“Yes daddy.”

“Yes daddy.” 

 

A loud squeal rang out across the yard, and the farmer’s wife came running down the hill. “The damn pigs got out again!” she yelled, holding up her skirt so she wouldn’t trip. “The little one’s gone into the woods again.”

“Aw fuck,” the farmer cursed. “Hey Jonny, if you wrangle that pig I’ll give you another thirty bucks.” 

Jonathan sighed. Money was money. “Yes, sir.”

 

The “little” pig was the size of a dog. It didn’t take Jonathan long before he found it in a thick patch of blackberry bushes, munching happily. But as soon as he drew close, it bolted off with a squeal. He ran after it, awkwardly pushing through the bushes and getting scratched by thorns, and nearly tripping over a thick tree root that jutted up underfoot. He caught up to the pig by the side of an old shed and, cornered, it tried to bolt out past him. Jonathan leapt on top of it, wrestling it to the ground. The pig thrashed and screamed bloody murder in his arms. He could feel it bruising his ribs with each kick. “I got it!” he called, not confident in his ability to carry the dense squirming animal back to its pen on his own. 

The farmer was at his side, picking the still screeching creature up into his wide arms. “Good job, Scarecrow,” he said. “You’re not useless after all.”

Jonathan stood, touching his bruised torso gingerly. He adjusted his glasses.

“Ooh, boy, you’re in trouble,” the farmer said with a whistle. “That’s a thunderwood patch you were rolling around in just now.”

 

\--

 

Jonathan woke up on Saturday with a terrible itch on his forearm. The farmer had been right after all. He scratched at it with his fingernails, which felt good until he stopped. Then it itched all the more. It itched while he was eating his breakfast, it itched while he was working at the general store, it itched all through his shift at the diner.

During their smoke break, Eddie sat cross-legged at Jonathan’s feet, just like he did every night. And Jonathan passed him a cigarette from his own pack, like every night. And Eddie leaned in and Jonathan lit it for him, like he did every single night. And Eddie’s eyes glowed with the reflection of the flame. And smoke billowed from the corner of his mouth as he smiled. As he laughed. And Jonathan wanted to tell him. To tell him everything. But the timing still didn't feel quite right. 

“What happened to your arm?” Eddie asked, eyebrows tilting with concern as he noticed the angry rash on Jonathan’s arm. 

“Oh, it’s just a rash from some thunderwood.”

“Some what?”

“Poison sumac. I was chasin’ a pig yesterday.”

Eddie snorted, and then laughed so hard he coughed. He coughed so hard he fell onto his side.

“What’s so funny?” Jonathan asked, eyes narrow.

“You’re such a country boy,” Eddie said, shoulders quaking as he tried to suppress his laughter.

“You’re a little bastard,” Jonathan said. He kicked at Eddie gently with the toe of his boot. “Sit up,” he said more insistently. “People are gonna think we’re lying down together.”

Eddie chortled, getting back up. “Lying down biblically? Or…?”

“Bastard,” Jonathan hissed, kicking him again. But he couldn’t help but laugh too. “So is the sheriff driving you home tonight or am I?”

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You don’t mind, do you?”

“I’ve minded since the very first time you asked,” he said, crossing his arms in mock irritation.

“Pshhhhh.” Eddie waved his hand. “You love being my chauffeur.”

“Oh is that what I am?” 

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re a god damn brat.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out at him. Jonathan thought fondly of biting it off. 

 

\--

 

“Do you want me to drop you off at the corner again?” Jonathan asked, as they approached Eddie’s street.

“Oh, no. My mom and the sheriff aren’t home. They’re at the Policeman’s Ball or some shit like that. They probably won’t be in ‘til two or three in the morning.”

“Oh.”

Eddie seemed to mull something over for a minute. “Do you wanna come in, for a little bit?” he finally asked. 

“Uh… Sure, if you think that’s ok?” Jonathan said slowly. “I don’t want you gettin’ in trouble. I know your parents don’t want you hangin’ around me.”

Eddie snorted. “They don’t want me around any man. They practically cheered when I told them I had a date with a girl last week.”

“Oh so it’s not because I…”

“Because you what? You killed your great grandmother?” Eddie laughed, and it was warm despite the subject matter. “They know that’s not true. Sheriff said she died of heart failure.”

Jonathan released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He scratched hard at his itching forearm. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, she did.”

“We do have nosy neighbors, though, so maybe you should park the truck down the road a little bit. There’s an empty lot a few houses down from mine.”

“Ok.” Jonathan’s heart was racing.

 

The inside of Eddie’s mother’s house was tidy but plainly furnished. The sagging beige sofa was covered in multicolored blankets and mismatched pillows. The coffee table was bare but it was stained and scratched. A glass display case in the corner housed a small collection of porcelain dolls. On the opposite wall hung a Confederate flag. The large television was probably the most expensive thing in the room.

“Sheriff likes his football,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes. “My room is upstairs, c’mon.”

Jonathan followed him up the carpeted staircase, trying to keep his breath steady. He was anxious. He’d never been in another person’s bedroom before. 

There were framed photographs all along the wall going up the stairs. Photos of the sheriff in uniform. Him fishing. Wedding pictures. There was a sepia photograph of a young girl who looked a lot like Eddie; it must have been his mother. More pictures of the sheriff’s adult children who had since moved out of the house. Birthdays. Graduations. 

There wasn’t one picture of Eddie. 

Eddie’s bedroom was small. A single bed, a dresser, and a desk were crammed together, leaving almost no floor space. He crawled over the bed to reach the desk, booting up the computer that sat there. Despite how cramped it felt, everything was organized, books lined up neatly by size and pens and pencils held in cups on top of the desk. On the dresser were a series of plastic shoe boxes, containing screws and bits of metal and what Jonathan assumed must be computer parts. The only things on the wall were an Indiana Hoosiers poster and a series of newspaper clippings, pinned neatly in a row above the headboard of the bed.

Jonathan stood in the doorway, rocking slightly on his heels, watching Eddie doing whatever he was doing with the computer. 

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Eddie asked, turning at last to look at him. 

“I guess. If you wanna.” Is that what people did?

Eddie’s eyes were twinkling, his smile fond. “You can’t watch a movie from the hallway, silly,” he teased. He patted the bed beside him. “Come sit down.”

Jonathan did. His heart was pounding in his chest. He wondered if Eddie could hear it.

“Do you have a preference?”

“No,” Jonathan answered. He hadn’t seen very many movies. He didn’t know what he preferred. 

Eddie picked something off a list on his computer and hit play and the movie started. He lie down on his side next to Jonathan, propping himself up with one elbow. Jonathan felt his whole body grow tense. Eddie was awfully close to him. 

“Are you hungry at all? Want me to grab us a snack?” he asked.

“No, I’m ok,” Jonathan answered. His voice was shaky. He hoped Eddie didn’t notice. “Thanks.”

The movie that Eddie had chosen was a comedy. Jonathan couldn’t really pay attention, though, because all he could think about was Eddie lying on the bed beside him. He found himself watching his friend much more than the screen in front of them. His heart danced at Eddie’s laughter, at the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Every so often he would look up at Jonathan with that big, toothy grin.

“Do you like this?” Eddie asked, and it took Jonathan a moment to realize he was referring to the movie.

Jonathan nodded. He hadn’t heard a word anyone had said the whole time.

Eddie continued to stare at him with an uncomfortable intensity. He inhaled slightly, as if he was going to speak again, but instead he turned back to watch the rest of the film. After a while, his elbow slid out from under him and he began to quietly snore. 

Damn it, Jonathan thought. He’s even cuter when he’s sleeping.

He sat and watched him sleep, until the movie ended and the room went dark and quiet. Jonathan was very tired. He lie down, parallel with Eddie, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under his head. It smelled like Eddie. Like spice and lavender and a teeny bit like sweat. He pressed his face into it, breathing in until his lungs strained. He wanted to hold his breath forever, to keep that small part of his friend inside of him until he dropped dead from lack of oxygen. He gazed at Eddie’s sleeping face in front of him, red hair a mess, his lips parted, eyelids twitching subtly. Dreaming. 

Jonathan wondered what he was dreaming about. He would never dare to think that Eddie might dream about him. Not unless it was a nightmare. 

Eddie sighed softly in his slumber, and one of his hands reached out to rest on Jonathan’s arm. Jonathan’s heart stopped. 

He lie there, as silent and as still as he could, until he too drifted to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what living in a rural area is actually like. All of it. Every detail. 
> 
> If you follow me on tumblr you probably know what the next chapter is about... 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading. ily all. <3


	7. The Corn Field: part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jonathan,” Eddie said, hands still clasped on his shoulders. His hazel eyes were as wide as saucers. “I need you to climb out the window.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: hallucinogenic drugs

“Jonathan!” Eddie whispered. He was shaking him by the shoulders. “Jonathan, wake up!”

Jonathan bolted up in a panic. He didn’t do well with being woken suddenly. But when he saw that it was Eddie there, he calmed slightly. “What is it?” he asked, matching Eddie’s hushed tone.

“My parents are home. I just heard them come in.”

“Shit.”

“Jonathan,” Eddie said, hands still clasped on his shoulders. His hazel eyes were as wide as saucers. “I need you to climb out the window.”

He handed Jonathan his glasses, which had apparently fallen off during his nap. Jonathan fumbled to put them on. He released a long, shuddering breath. He wasn’t fond of heights. But there didn’t seem to be any other option.

“Ok,” he whispered, nodding. “Ok, I can do that.”

“Some asshole parked his truck in the lot down the street,” came a man’s voice from out in the hall. 

“Now!” Eddie hissed, yanking the window open and practically pushing Jonathan out. 

Jonathan swung his legs out the window, hanging to the sill by his arms. He gave Eddie one last look. “I have to tell you something,” he said suddenly. 

“Tomorrow,” Eddie said, shooing at him frantically with his hands. “After church.” 

“Ok.” Jonathan lowered himself down, using the latticework on the side of the house to climb safely to the ground. His heart was in his throat. 

From up above he heard voices.

“Eddie, what are you still doing up?”

“Well I was asleep, but you and Mom woke me up.”

“And why’s your window open?”

“I was hot.”

“Jesus, Eddie, you’re lettin’ all the bugs in. Think for god damn once-“ The sheriff came to the window and slammed it shut. Jonathan pressed himself up against the house. His lungs were searing as he held his breath.

He ran as fast as his feet could carry him, down the road to his truck. His hands shook as he put the key in the ignition. It took several tries to get it right. He was panting, heart in his throat, sweat pouring from his neck and face. He drove home as if on autopilot, mind replaying everything that had just occurred. 

Jonathan had been in a boy’s bedroom. Not just any boy’s room- it was Eddie’s room. He had fallen asleep in a bed with a boy. Slept in a bed with Eddie. It was an accident, and it had only been for a couple of hours, but it had happened. And they had almost been discovered. He shivered, thinking about what the consequences might have been if they’d been caught. 

When he got home it was almost three o’clock. He went straight upstairs, taking off his clothes as he went, leaving them scattered along the hall behind him. He told himself he’d pick them up tomorrow. He wouldn’t. Jonathan collapsed onto his bed, wrapping his arms around the pillow tightly and squeezing his eyes shut. He pressed his nose against the skin of his own arm and inhaled deeply. The smell of Eddie’s sheets was still clinging to him. He didn’t want it to ever fade away. 

Jonathan didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. 

 

\--

 

Jonathan was anxious the next morning. Today was the day that he and Eddie planned on eating the mushrooms. He had no idea what to expect. He sighed heavily, glancing at the clock on the wall. Eddie would be getting out of church any minute now. Jonathan yawned. He wondered if sleep deprivation would change the effects of the hallucinogens at all. Probably, he guessed. There was no time to try for a nap, though. 

The rash on his forearm had spread farther, and it itched worse than the first day. He rubbed at it furiously, watching the clock. 

Even though he was expecting it, the knock on the door made him jump. Eddie let himself in without waiting for Jonathan’s answer. He was still wearing his church clothes. 

“Hey you,” he said cheerfully, plopping his backpack on the floor and sitting down to remove his dress shoes. He lined them up carefully along the wall, as was his habit.

Jonathan was wringing his hands. “Hi,” he said. Eddie looked absolutely dashing in his shirt and tie. With his old Hollywood good looks, he was practically made for it. And his dress pants hugged his thighs in a way that his usual cargo shorts did not. Jonathan swallowed hard, mouth suddenly parched. How had he ever been able to deny to himself that he was gay? 

“I’m sorry about last night.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who fell asleep first.” Eddie was loosening his tie. “Sorry you had to climb out the window, though. That was shitty.”

“Very.” 

Eddie folded the tie neatly, placing it in the front pocket of his bag. “You said you had something to tell me?”

Oh no. 

“Um, did I?” Jonathan stalled. “I don’t remember.”

“It seemed kind of urgent,” Eddie said, eyeing him sidelong. “You were hanging from a window at the time.”

Jonathan looked away, busily scratching at his rash. “I was half awake, I don’t think I knew what I was saying.”

“O-k,” Eddie sang, clearly disbelieving, as he carried his backpack to the bathroom with him. “I’m gonna change and then we can get started.”

Jonathan felt dizzy.

 

\--

 

They traveled deep into the woods, at Eddie’s insistence. “You don’t do shrooms indoors,” he’d said. “That’s just sacrilegious.” 

Jonathan was going to comment on the irony of Eddie’s word choice, but he was interrupted. 

“Here seems like a good spot,” Eddie announced, motioning with open arms to the clearing they had stumbled upon. He unzipped his bag and pulled out a thin blanket, which he laid out on the ground. He fussed with it for a few minutes, trying to get the corners even. Such a fussy boy, Jonathan thought, covering his mouth with his hand to hide his adoring smile.

Eddie settled on the blanket cross-legged, and rummaged some more in his backpack. He pulled out a pair of notebooks, some pens, and a Tupperware container with two sandwiches inside. “Care for a picnic?” he asked. 

Jonathan sat across from him on the blanket, reaching over to grab one of the notebooks. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just two friends having a lovely picnic in the summer sunshine.” Eddie flashed him a dazzling, mischievous grin. He cracked open the Tupperware and handed one of the sandwiches to Jonathan.

“What is this?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s peanut butter and Nutella,” Eddie answered, taking a showy bite of his own. He grimaced. “It helps mask the taste.” 

Jonathan felt his blood pressure rising. He hadn’t realized they were in the sandwiches. Suddenly it all felt real. It’s for my research, he reminded himself. I have to do this. He ate the sandwich as quickly as he could, retching at the flavor despite the generous amount of chocolate and peanut butter Eddie had spread on it. 

“When does it start?” he asked, pushing his glasses up with his fingers. 

Eddie shrugged. “An hour, maybe? Faster if you haven’t eaten anything else today.” He chuckled. “Who am I kidding? Of course you haven’t eaten anything else.”

Jonathan folded his arms. How dare Eddie know him so intimately, while being such a mystery himself. “What are we supposed to do for the next hour?” he asked.

Eddie responded with an expression Jonathan had never seen before. “What do you want to do?” he asked back, trailing a finger in circles along his own arm. His lashes fluttered.

“I’d love a nap, honestly,” Jonathan said. 

“Yeah?” There was something puzzling about Eddie’s smile. 

Jonathan nodded. “Yeah I didn’t sleep at all last night. I’m exhausted.”

Eddie made a very different, but equally confusing face. His eyes narrowed. “If you take an actual nap now you’ll just have weird, shitty dreams. And have wasted my time collecting and preparing these fungi.”

“If I’m a waste of your time, why do you hang out with me?” Jonathan snapped. His stomach was churning.

“I didn’t-“ Eddie frowned. “I didn’t say that you were a waste of my time. Just that-“ He sighed. “Never mind. Lie down if you need to, I’ll wake you up thirty minutes.” 

“Forty,” Jonathan corrected. He folded his glasses and tucked them into the front of his t-shirt before lying on his back with his hands laced beneath his head. The sun was warm. “And remember. When it starts, we have to write down everything, as much as we can, Ok?”

He could almost hear Eddie’s eyes roll. “Yes, Jonathan. I know.”

He closed his eyes. Eddie was talking still. Babbling and babbling. A story, it sounded like, about somebody he knew back in Indiana. Jonathan couldn’t care. He was tired, and warm, and… content. He had never been content before. 

 

Jonathan woke back up before Eddie had the chance to rouse him. There was an awful taste in his throat. He sat up, putting on his glasses. Eddie was sitting quietly, braiding a series of wildflowers together. He had a crown of them already in his hair. “I’m making you one,” he said. “But you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.”

Eddie looked like an ethereal creature. A faerie. A Tolkien elf. His fiery hair shone against the green of the flower stems. His eyes danced, pupils blown wide. Had he always been so beautiful? 

Everything in the clearing was the same as before, but it was all different somehow. The nearby flowers were sparkling in the sunlight. Pollen from the trees blew lazily through the air overhead. Jonathan found the notebook already in his hands, though he didn’t recall picking it up. His pen was shaking in his hand. He was writing, but he didn’t know if the words were making sense. 

“What does this say?” he asked, holding open the page for Eddie to read.

Eddie giggled. “I don’t know! I can barely read your chicken scratch sober, Jonathan!” 

Jonathan closed the notebook, laying it down on the blanket by his feet. Eddie shuffled over to him on his knees, placing the flower crown on Jonathan’s head. 

“Eddie,” he warned.

“Now you’re my prince,” Eddie said, still laughing. His eyelids were heavy and his head was lolling just slightly. But as always, he seemed full of boundless energy. “We should go for a walk!”

Jonathan whined. “I don’t know if I can.”

Eddie took both of Jonathan’s hands in his own. If he weren’t high he would have died of shock. But in this soft, sparkling version of the world, it felt effortless. He let Eddie guide him to his feet, let him release one of his hands so he could lead him through the forest with the other. The usually dull, grey tree trunks were vibrant. The leaves up above whispered faint, happy things. It was a language Jonathan didn’t speak, but he knew somehow that it was one of kindness and joy and…

“Look,” Eddie said suddenly. He pointed a long, gorgeous arm towards the corn field at the bottom of the hill. 

Walking downhill was difficult, but they managed. He nearly tripped once or twice, but Eddie caught him. He laughed. They both laughed. It was like music, angelic music, making the back of Jonathan’s scalp tingle.

The corn stalks were so tall from up close, taller than Jonathan. They were green. A striking, coruscating green. 

“This is my favorite color,” Eddie told him, a weight to his words as if it were the most important thing he’d ever confessed. 

And he yanked Jonathan by the hand, between the rows. 

The thick leaves scraped against Jonathan’s arms, but he didn’t have time to think about it, because Eddie was tugging on his hand so hard he thought his wrist might break. 

“This way,” Eddie said. “This way.”

Jonathan felt sweat beading on his neck. He thought suddenly of water. He knew Eddie had brought some in his backpack, but it was all the way back in the clearing. Wherever that was. He didn’t know for sure if they’d ever find their way back. Eddie was guiding him, madly, deeper and deeper into the corn field. 

The stalks were so tall. They might get lost.

They might be trapped. 

Jonathan heard crows cawing, though when he scanned the sky he saw none. 

Eddie had let go of his hand and was running both his palms over one of the plants. “They’re just like us,” he told Jonathan. “They’re exactly like us.”

The cawing was growing louder. The sun wasn’t as dazzling as before. Jonathan saw dark clouds rolling in, heavy and pregnant with the rain that everyone had been hoping for for weeks. 

“Eddie, I think it’s gonna rain,” he said. 

There was no answer. 

Eddie was gone.

Jonathan’s heart began to thunder in his ears as he realized that the storm clouds above him didn’t carry rain. 

They were birds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy Jonathan has no luck, does he? 
> 
>    
> (P.S: Don't do drugs, kids. In fact, if Edward Nygma does something, you probably should not do that thing.)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3  
> xoxo


	8. The Corn Field: part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: hallucinogenic drugs, child abuse, blood

Jonathan watched with horror as the writhing black mass in the sky swallowed up the sun, plunging the corn field in darkness. Their cawing was deafening. Even though the crows were above him, the sound seemed to come from every direction. Even beneath his feet. Even inside of his lungs. His breath rattled in his chest. His throat was choked with dirty feathers that he couldn’t cough up no matter how hard he tried. 

The birds descended upon him, battering him with their wings, clawed feet grasping at his bare arms and ripping open his flesh. We were friends, he thought helplessly. We were supposed to be friends. He curled up in a tight ball on the ground, back to his attackers, protecting his face like he had done countless times before. Hard beaks stabbed at him through his shirt. He was bleeding. It made his clothes stick to his skin in a strangling manner. 

Blood was pouring from every surface of his body, and it was ice cold. 

Jonathan could smell it, metallic and sick. And it was in his mouth and on his tongue and crawling up his throat. Vomit spewed from his face onto his own lap. The black down feathers stuck to his wet lips as he coughed. The crows were unrelenting in their torment of him. 

He crawled on his belly through the dirt, seeking shelter beneath the towering corn stalks. He hoped that they couldn’t reach him there. But an enormous pair of talons grasped at his ankles then, trying to pull him backwards, out into the open where they could tear him to pieces. He kicked with his feet, making contact with something hard and loud. It squealed at him, releasing its claws. 

He pushed forward, to the next row of stalks. When he came out the other side, the cawing had ceased. But his arms were still spilling with blood, and he searched frantically for something he could use to stop the bleeding. It was so cold, and he shivered as he stumbled between the corn stalks. Jonathan was very aware suddenly of the thousands of hidden eyes watching him. Of the creatures which waited in the shadows. 

Their thirst had been whetted. 

He didn’t think he had much blood left to lose. 

Things were not the colors they were supposed to be, Jonathan realized. But he couldn’t be certain. For a moment that idea was just as distressing as whatever it was that was hunting him. As the chilled blood clinging to his shirt. He heard footsteps, crunching over the broken stalks. Someone was calling his name.

“Jonathan! Jonathan stop!” 

He ran.

He ran and he ran and he ran, but the corn field was endless. It was a labyrinth made up of scraping, verdant walls. Jonathan would never escape. He was going to die in this maze.

“Jonathan, damn it! Wait!”

The voice sounded far behind him. He panted, running faster.

BAM!

Jonathan felt a splitting pain in his head as he toppled backwards, landing flat on his ass, having smashed face first into… He looked up, at the impossible figure glaring down at him. She was scowling. No.

No no no no no no no no no no no… 

 

Jonathan Crane was only a child. He was five years old. No, that wasn’t right. He was nine. He was eight. He was… four? All he knew was that he was small. He could remember being big, once, but now he was so, so, so small. His great grandmother towered above him, taller than the corn growing all around them. She had never been that tall before. 

He cowered before her. “I’m sorry, Granny,” he whispered. 

“Don’t tell me sorry, boy,” she boomed. “Tell the Lord.”

Jonathan was shaking. Granny’s voice had never sounded like that before either. He said, quietly, “I’m sorry, God. I’m sorry I’m a sinner.”

“Confess,” his Granny growled. She was stretching, taller and taller and taller and taller. Her arms were outstretched, like Christ on the cross. “Confess your sins to the Lord.” 

Jonathan smelled smoke. And blood. Was he bleeding? When did that happen? 

“I... I…” He paused. He couldn’t remember. What had he done? He knew that he had sinned. But he had no idea what his sins had been.

“NOW, boy! Or it’s to the chapel again!” Granny’s eyes were glowing, like an animal caught in headlights in the middle of the night. 

Jonathan was crying. “I don’t know, Granny. I don’t know what I did.”

The stitches on her mouth were moving. Had Granny always had stitches on her mouth? “You know what you did,” she snarled. The smoke was coming from her eyes. “And now you’ll be punished.”

“No, Granny. No,” he sobbed, kneeling on his hands and knees in the mud. There was throw-up on his pants and he couldn’t remember how it got there. “Please not the crows again.”

Not so soon. He had to let his wounds heal first. They’d kill him if she threw him in with them again now. They’d eat him alive.

“Jonathan!” the voice behind him shouted.

A pair of hands clapped heavily onto his shoulders. He spun around, looking into the familiar face. How had Granny moved so quickly from up there to right behind him? 

“Jon, your glasses are broken. What happened?”  
“You’re a sinner and you’ll burn in hell.”

Both sentences came from her mouth at the same time. Jonathan blinked through his tears, confused. “What?”

“I said- you’re a sinner- what happened to- you’re a heathen- your glasses?-you’ll burn for all eternity.” 

Jonathan was shaking, trying to comprehend. Granny was chewing on her bottom lip. She never did that. He was sure that someone he knew did, but never Granny.

She spoke again, another jumbled sentence. “Jonathan –you’ll sleep- sweetheart- with the birds- you’re crying- tonight.” 

Jonathan screamed suddenly, as her arms wrapped around him. Her touch made his stomach boil with rage. “Don’t touch me!” he hollered, shoving her backward. 

The old woman fell to the ground. No more of this, Jonathan thought. His hand went to the back pocket of his jeans, found the pocket knife he had only just remembered. Granny was looking up at him with absolute terror in her eyes. It was a lovely picture. Jonathan sneered. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again, you bitch.” 

He kneeled over her, knife pointed at her face. 

“Please, no,” she was whispering. “Please don’t hurt me.”

He laughed, darkly and gleefully. “Funny how the tables have turned. After all the hurt you dealt me. I’m gonna enjoy killin’ you all over again,” he said, straddling her chest and pinning her elbows to the ground with his knees. He moved the knife down her face and pressed it to the edge of her jaw. There was the smallest trace of blood, and Jonathan laughed more. He would draw her torture out for even longer this time around. 

“Please,” she begged softly. “Please, Daddy, no…”

Daddy? 

What?

 

Jonathan blinked his eyes, staring down at the shuddering figure beneath him. 

“Please,” Eddie was sobbing. Hyperventilating. His face was bruised and his nose was bleeding. His hair and his clothes were soaked through with rain water. “Daddy I didn’t mean it. I’ll be a good boy. I promise, Daddy. Don’t hurt me anymore.” 

Jonathan felt sick. He threw the knife to the ground, backing away from Eddie, trying desperately to piece together what had just occurred. The lenses of his glasses were shattered, but he could see that the clouds overhead were beginning to dissipate, the sun shining through once again. Everything was wet, coated with the much-needed summer rain. Birds were singing in the distance, but there were no crows cawing. 

Jonathan looked up at the scarecrow looming high above them, with its stitched-up mouth and its straw-filled arms spread out like it was being crucified. He looked to Eddie, who had curled up on his side in the fetal position in the wet mud, panting and pleading under his breath with his hallucinated father. His flower crown was gone, nothing remaining but a few petals and stems stuck in his mussed red hair. Jonathan’s was gone too. 

He tried to put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but the younger boy only sobbed louder at the touch. “No, no, no,” he whimpered. He was chewing on his fingers, tearing at them with his teeth until they bled. Jonathan wanted to stop him. He had hurt Eddie so much today; he didn’t want to see him hurt himself now. 

But he couldn’t touch him. He couldn’t talk to him. Not until the flashback ended.

Jonathan hugged his arms around himself, sitting in the mud beside his best friend. The two of them stayed there, even after the mushrooms wore off, both crying, both shaking, both entirely unable to console the other. 

Together but separate. 

Like they’d been from the beginning. 

 

\--

 

It was almost nightfall by the time they made it back to the house. It had taken them quite a while to find their way out of the corn field, through the woods, and back to the clearing where they’d left their things. Their notebooks had been completely soaked through by the rain. Useless now. Not that Jonathan’s notes would have been useful. This entire experiment had been a waste. He wished he’d never suggested it in the first place. 

They didn’t talk on the way back. Just walked together, eyes on the ground before them. 

Jonathan couldn’t look at Eddie’s face. He was pretty sure he had broken the boy’s nose when he’d kicked him. There were dark violet bruises forming around both his eyes. His lip was split. There was a small cut below his chin where Jonathan had… 

He’d almost killed him. 

He had nearly killed the only person in the world that he ever loved. And he would have done it while smiling. Laughing.

Jonathan didn’t know how much Eddie remembered. He hoped not that. God, he hoped not that…

As soon as they got inside the manor, Eddie went straight to the bathroom and took a shower, without even asking. He was in there a very long time. Jonathan changed into dry clothes and found his old pair of glasses in his room, while he waited. His arm was caked with blood where his rash had been. He washed it off in the kitchen sink. It looked like something had torn all of his skin away. The flesh stung under the water. 

Eddie was still in the shower. Jonathan pressed himself up against the bathroom door, listening. He heard the water shut off, and the cabinet doors opening and closing. Hands rummaging through drawers. He heard Eddie start sobbing again. 

He came out of the bathroom about twenty minutes later, wearing his church dress pants and no shirt. He had bandages on his fingers, and one over the cut that Jonathan’s knife had given him. His eyes were downcast. “Jonathan,” he said, voice small and croaky from crying.

“Yes?” Jonathan responded with apprehension. These were their first words since leaving the corn field. 

Eddie wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I need you to reset my nose for me. It’s definitely broken. I tried to do it myself but I’m too chicken…”

“Eddie, I’m-“

“If you don’t, it’ll heal crooked and I’ll be ugly forever.” 

His tone was pure sorrow. 

Jonathan put his hands on either side of Eddie’s face, and finally those eyes met his. They were so full of pain already. Jonathan almost lost the nerve to do it. 

‘Please,’ Eddie mouthed silently, and so Jonathan pressed his thumbs to the puffy, swollen edges of Eddie’s nose, and applied pressure on the crooked side. There was a loud, nauseating crunch as the bones and cartilage realigned. Eddie hissed in pain.

“Thanks,” he said, grimacing.

Jonathan’s hands were still cupping Eddie’s flushed and freckled cheeks. He stroked them softly. He wanted to kiss him. To tell him that everything would be ok. That he was sorry. That he would never let him anyone hurt again. Eddie brought his hands up and placed them on top of Jonathan’s.

He’s going to kiss me, he thought. 

But instead, Eddie pulled Jonathan’s hands away from his face and released them, letting them drop limply at his sides. He moved across the room, to look at the china cabinet that stood at the edge of the dining room. He had his arms crossed in front of his bare chest. Jonathan couldn’t help but stare at the scars on Eddie’s shoulders. He would kill Eddie’s father for doing that to him. He would track him down and tear him limb from limb, make him swallow his own eyeballs, make him suffer unimaginable horror, and none of it would be punishment enough for hurting the sweet, darling boy that was Edward Nashton.

As if he could read his mind, Eddie asked,” Did you really kill your grandmother, Jonathan?” He didn’t turn around, just kept looking at the china plates. On display, and never used. 

Jonathan sighed. It’s not that he hadn’t wanted to tell Eddie. He just hadn’t wanted to do it so soon. There were much more important things to tell him after all. 

“Yeah,” he said plainly, without a hint of emotion. 

He saw Eddie’s Adam’s apple twitch as he swallowed nervously. “How did you do it?” he asked, still not looking back.

The details would come later, the sentiment was enough for the time being. That was, if Eddie even stuck around. “I scared her to death,” Jonathan said.

Eddie turned, eyes wide but not with fear. It was his curiosity, so strong it overpowered every other emotion. He was such a strange young man. He seemed to be regarding Jonathan for several moments before he asked his third question. 

“What did she do to you?”

That Jonathan had not expected. He thought for a long while about how exactly to explain to Eddie just what had occurred in this house. But in his tired state, he hadn’t the words. Instead, Jonathan did something for the very first time. Very slowly, he pulled off his shirt, revealing to his friend the network of scars that covered every inch of his back.

Eddie gasped audibly, and then covered his mouth as if to apologize. “Jonathan,” he breathed, stepping towards him. “Oh, Jonathan. What-? How-? Oh, no, Jonathan….” He looked like he might cry again. “Yours make mine look like child’s play,” he said, a sad smile on his lips. 

Jonathan didn’t know what to say to that. 

Eddie stepped closer to him, so that they were face to face. “Jonathan,” he said very quietly. “I’m sorry about today. If I hadn’t dragged you into that field, if I hadn’t wandered off…”

“No,” Jonathan said. “I should be the sorry one.”

Eddie looked up at him. “Jonathan…” He said his name for what felt like the tenth time. 

“What?”

“I really want a hug… If that's ok?”

“I… I think, maybe, I can do that,” Jonathan answered hesitantly, and instantly there was heat against his skin. Eddie had wrapped his arms tightly around Jonathan’s waist, their bare chests flush with each other, his face pressed into his neck. Without thinking, their hands moved to feel each other’s scars. Eddie’s were soft but thick, especially the burns. The touch of his scabbed fingers made Jonathan shudder. No one had ever held him before. He liked it. Good Lord, how he liked it. But it was overwhelming. It felt so good that it almost hurt. He started to tremble.

“Jon?” Eddie whispered. “Are you ok?”

Jonathan burst out crying. He’d never felt so many things in one day. “Eddie…” he said. “I have to tell you something else.”

“What is it?” 

He was such a sweet boy. Such a darling boy.

Jonathan knew he could never have him in the way he wanted, especially now. But he had to tell him. He couldn't stand to hold it in for one more moment.

“I’m gay,” Jonathan said, sniffling. He was far too exhausted to be afraid right now.

Eddie pulled back to look him in the eye. His smile was so gentle. “I thought so,” he said. 

Jonathan frowned, dismayed. “Am I that obvious?” he asked. 

“Oh no,” Eddie said. “No, no, you’re not… I just…” He sighed, pulling Jonathan closer again. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me.”

Trust. It was something Jonathan himself was wholly undeserving of.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he wept. “I’m so sorry.”

They stood there together in the dining room, bruised and bloody and aching. Holding each other.  
Just holding each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> xoxo


End file.
